


Stop the World (I Want to Get Off)

by 27dragons, tisfan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blood and Gore, Bondage, Bruises, Cupping, Discussion of kink, Dom Drop, Dom/sub, Dungeon, Electricity Play, Flogging, Hickies, Kink Lists, Kink Negotiation, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Clamps, No Refractory Period, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Panic Attacks, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Safeword Use, Safewords, Sensation Play, Shibari, Spanking, St. Andrew's Cross, Sub Drop, Subspace, Switching, Tony is a BRAT, Trust, Trust Issues, Vibrators, Wax Play, Whipping, accidental injury, dom in a bad headspace, hard no, love and trust go together, pre-play care, public BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-06 11:17:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Five times Tony and Bucky used their safewords, and one time they didn’t have to.or, Clint can’t believe that Bucky Barnes is so damned vanilla when he’s dating Tony Stark…or, how Bucky learns to hurt people in the fun way.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Readingfanfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/gifts).



> Not terribly long ago, tisfan wrote a punishment BDSM piece, [The Penitent Man Kneels](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12423417), that garnered a lot more negative attention than she was expecting, including a lot of accusations of abusive relationships, demeaning behavior, and humiliation. (To be fair, there was quite a lot of positive attention, too.) Given that _50 Shades of Grey_ is one of the best known kink novels out there (problematic as it is) there’s a lot of misunderstandings about kink and kink relationships.
> 
> For the purposes of fic, a lot of times the SSC (Safe, Sane, Consensual) or RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink) stuff gets skimped or skipped entirely. Likewise, use of safewords, sub drop, dom drop, and aftercare are frequently neglected parts of fic. We see very few doms getting anxiety or having confidence issues. And very little safe word usage before the whole scene goes right off the rails.
> 
> After spending a week or so being the Kink Whisperer for a number of readers, tisfan raised the idea of doing a 5+1 kink series. To point out that Bucky being in his Dom gear and thinking Tony needed a spanking could have been easily negated by Tony walking in the room and going “Nah, I’m not up for it today, red, okay?” and things would just GO ON… that’s the whole point of safewords. Kink consent is so very important and we wanted to just demonstrate what a healthy kink relationship might look like.
> 
> So, pretty much everything but the first chapter contains very explicit, NSFW material, and we will have warnings at the beginning of each chapter for what, precisely, will be in each chapter for people with specific triggers, this entire fic is an exploration of different kinks, and some of the stuff that can go wrong (very wrong!) even with the best of intentions.
> 
> For our smut-averse readers, please just skip this fic. We don’t mind. There’s no non-sexual plot. The whole point of this fic is an exploration of kinks and kink relationships.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: BDSM, Kink Negotiation, Kink lists, discussions of kink

It was Clint, because of course it was, who glanced up from his ridiculously large coffee cup, his gaze flickering from Tony’s sex hair to the love bites down the side of his throat, to the bruises on his wrist, and said, “Man, you need to use your safe word earlier, Stark. You look like you got attacked by a defanged vampire. Don’t you got a publicity thing today? Pepper’s gonna flatten you like a pancake.”

Tony waved a careless hand. “That’s why makeup was invented, Barton; don’t worry your little head about it. Besides, we didn’t even have time to get kinky this morning. This was just a quickie. Well, for us.”

“La la la,” Nat said, sticking her fingers in her ears. “You’re not a _job_ , I don’t need details. Whips, chains, candle wax, I do not even care.”

Bucky choked into his orange juice. _What?_ “I’m not _hurting_ Tony,” he said, a little offended and a little worried at the same time. He tried really hard not to hurt Tony, point of fact. Utterly and completely aware of how damn breakable normal humans were, Bucky held a lot of himself back for fear of what would happen. Tony had some bruises, that was… well, not normal, not ideal, but he was doing the best he could.

Clint waggled his eyebrows. “Or at least only hurting him in the fun way,” he suggested lasciviously. He apparently did not have Nat’s aversion to details.

“Everything is the fun way with me,” Tony said loftily.

“There’s a _fun way_ to hurt someone?” Bucky blurted out, confused. What did they think he was, fucking Brock Rumlow, or Pierce, or any of a double dozen handlers and scientists who liked to listen to the Soldier scream until he didn’t even know how to ask for mercy any longer.

“Oh, honey,” Tony said, leaning in for a quick kiss as he reached for a second cup of coffee. “I’ll have JARVIS send you some links.”

Clint shook his head, mock-sadly. “How can you be dating _Tony Stark_ and be so very vanilla?”

Bucky had no idea what that meant, either, except that he was pretty sure he’d just been insulted.

“Shut it, Barton,” Tony said, with just an edge of real irritation to his voice. “We’re having plenty of fun without diving headfirst into the deep end. Keep it up, and I’ll use you for a demonstration of _not_ fun ways to hurt someone.”

“Seriously, stop,” Nat complained. “I’m trying to have breakfast, here.”

“Eh, safe words are for wimps anyway,” Clint said, pushing up from the table. “Happy, healthy, well-adjusted wimps. But wimps, nonetheless.” Despite that, he made haste away from the table. Bucky wasn’t sure if it was Tony’s outright threat, or Nat’s eyebrow game that got him moving, but ug. Clint danced on the line between someone Bucky wanted to punch and someone he wanted to hang out with. It was a thin line. Steve spent a lot of time there, too.

“Sorry to put you off breakfast,” Bucky said.

Nat waved him off. “I’m happy you two are happy. I just don’t need the details.”

“I’m happy,” Bucky said, looking up at Tony and knowing, but not being able to help it, that his entire heart was in his eyes. And he was happy. He _was_. When he wasn’t confused about modern practices, or terrified that he was going to slip with his control, just one tiny bit, and hurt the only person in the world he couldn’t live without.

Tony smiled, and it was real and warm and just for Bucky. “Me too,” he said. “Couldn’t be happier.”

Nat blew air from an extended lower lip, puffing up her hair. “Sappy is almost worse than details about your sex life. I’m going to go to the gym now.” She gathered up the remains of her breakfast and fled after Clint.

“Well, no one empties a room like us, I guess,” Bucky said. “And when I don’t have to worry about Pepper skinning you for being late, you’re going to explain this conversation to me, because I think I’m missing a lot.”

Tony looked at his watch and yelped. He slung back the last of his coffee (was that the third or fourth cup?) and leaned in to kiss Bucky again, firmly but neatly. “I absolutely will,” he promised. “Or you can have JARVIS give you the rundown and we’ll move on to the advanced discussion tonight, either way.” He looked like he was debating another kiss, but then caught sight of the kitchen clock and grimaced. “Right. Not being skinned alive, right at the top of my to-do list for today. I’ll see you tonight, Buckybear. Love you!” And he was gone before Bucky even had time to echo the sentiment.

“J?”

“I am normally eager to follow through with requests immediately, Mr. Barnes,” the AI said in a tone that indicated that discretion might be required. Bucky wasn’t sure how a computer managed such advanced projections, although he was really better off, he found, thinking of JARVIS as a person who didn’t happen to have a body than anything else. “However, I suggest moving to a more private location before I provide visual aids and comprehensive guides on this particular topic.”

***

The publicity thing had run late -- or, to be more precise, it had run slightly longer than the projected time of event plus two hours -- and Bucky hadn’t moved from the chair for most of the day, clicking links and blinking.

He’d been ignoring his erection long enough that he’d mostly forgotten about it. Except awareness flared like a sudden storm as soon as Tony walked into the room. Awareness and a rather unexpected jolt of shame. Was he even considering any of these things, at all? Watching was one thing, but actually doing them? He flushed, heat rushing to his cheeks and throat.

“Hey,” he managed, waving a hand over the display and shutting it all down. JARVIS had promised to wipe the history as soon as Bucky was done for the day, and Bucky appreciated it.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” Tony said, loosening his tie as he crossed the room to claim a kiss. “My day kind of sucked; how was _yours_?”

If he blushed any harder, his hair was going to catch fire. And he couldn’t seem to look anywhere safe. He couldn’t meet Tony’s eyes at all, but Bucky’s gaze flickered from Tony’s lush mouth, down his chest, lingered on the line of his hip. “Uh… you know, if there weren’t so… much of this --” He waved his hand around to indicate the sites he’d been directed to. “-- I’d think you were pullin’ my leg. Do.. have you…?” He wasn’t sure he wanted details, mind, on the who and the when, but.

Tony glanced at the now-blank computer display, but somewhere between that and Bucky’s hot blush, he seemed to clue in. All the exhaustion dropped away, and he stepped even closer with a smug purr. “From time to time,” he said. “Not as much as the gossip sites -- or Clint -- would have you believe. It’s hard to find someone to trust enough for that kind of play.”

Bucky shrugged, trying to ignore both the blush and the heavy press of his cock inside his jeans. “Why? Why would you…” He wasn’t sure what he was asking for. Reassurance or rejection, everything balanced on the edge. It wasn’t that he didn’t have his share of dark fantasies, but in his day, getting caught even doing the most basic acts with another man was practically a death sentence. He’d never done anything with those thoughts that surfaced from time to time. The urge to hold a lover down, the delicious ache of fingernails down his back. The way he couldn’t help himself, biting at Tony’s fair skin until it reddened.

Tony’s eyebrow went up. “Well, they say everyone’s got their own reasons, sugarlump, but mostly because it just feels... maybe _good_ isn’t the right word, but _satisfying_. Can’t tell me you’re totally at a loss, here; I’ve heard the noises you make when I pull your hair.” Christ, Bucky hadn’t thought it was _possible_ to blush any harder. Tony smirked, and then the smile softened a little. “If you’re not into it, it’s okay, we can just lump it under the heading of ‘Clint’s an idiot’ and forget it.”

It was a Pandora’s box. He’d opened it, and there was no stuffing it all back inside. He couldn’t lock the thoughts away and pretend he’d never had them. He knew that they were bursting out of their seams anyway, the way he liked to look at the marks on Tony’s skin and know that Tony was _his_. At the same time, it seemed like all the sorts of things that fell under _you don’t do that to people you care about_. He shivered, and he couldn’t tell if it was fear or wanting that shook him. He shut his eyes, which might have been a mistake; his brain, always tactical and good at planning, honed by his training with the army and polished to a razor’s edge under Hydra’s care, presented him with a very vivid image of Tony bent over, perfect ass red and stinging, tears in those beautiful brown eyes. Begging. Bucky swallowed a lump in his throat the size of a fucking golf ball. “Clint is an idiot,” Bucky agreed, because that was absolutely true. “Don’t mean that I ain’t… into it.”

Admitting that, that those pictures and videos and descriptions had made him weak with wanting… that seemed to release a tidal flood of things he wanted to do to Tony. Things he wanted Tony to do to him. Some new height of pleasure and pain they could reach together. Things he’d never done, marking Tony under his skin, claiming him in every way Bucky could think of.

“Well, then,” Tony said softly, from very, very close, “we should sit down and make up some checklists, then.”

***

Bucky glared. “You know, when I was confessin’ my dark desires, I was not expectin’ _paperwork_ to be the end result.”

Tony did not seem the least bit cowed by Bucky’s glowering. “Best way to make sure we pick fun things to do that we both want,” he pointed out. He made a shooing motion. “Go on, you’re more than halfway through.”

Bucky rolled his head from one side to the other, popping his spine. “You modern folk got too much damn time on your hands. Like, who th’ hell thinks ‘I’ll just shove a piece of ginger up my fella’s ass so he don’t clench up when I whip him?’” The description had been _interesting_ , though; a whole host of punishment ideas that he’d come across on one site.

“People have been shoving stuff up their butts for probably the entire history of humanity,” Tony said. “Most of them without all this calm and rational aforethought that we’re demonstrating here.” He tipped his head, studying Bucky with those dark eyes and that unnerving little half-smile. “Figging, huh? Interesting.”

Bucky scowled, feeling the blush creeping up his throat again. He wasn’t sure how the hell any of this was going to work, if he couldn’t get over feeling like he was going to explode on contact. Well, he supposed there was one good thing about the supersoldier serum. His refractory period was, as Tony sometimes said, “a little terrifying, but also awesome.” He stretched again and peeked at Tony’s list, wanting to know something about what Tony was into, so he didn’t feel quite so weird and perverted.

Tony looked far too pleased -- probably because Bucky was blushing so much; he loved it when Bucky blushed -- but willingly tipped his display so Bucky could see. Exhibitionism wasn’t much of a surprise; Tony loved the spotlight. Shibari _was_ surprising. Bucky couldn’t imagine Tony being _still_ enough for it. Electricity play was a Hard No, Bucky noted with relief.

Bucky turned back to his display, scowled at it again, and flicked no to a whole host of options that included sharing or swapping his lover with someone else. Bucky had heard the phrase _over my dead body_ before, but truth was, in Bucky’s case, it was more likely for it to be over _their_ dead body instead. Tony was _his_. He knew that made him a possessive son of a bitch, and possibly borderline controlling, along with a bunch of other words, but there was no way. None. If he and Tony were together, nobody else got to put a hand on him. If Tony wanted to negotiate _that_ , it wasn’t going to go well for anybody.

“A’ight,” he said, pushing back from the desk. “I’m done.”

“Great! JARVIS, throw out all the no-go items and give us a color overlay to show us how well our answers match, giving versus receiving down the line, you know the drill.” Tony sat back and wriggled insistently under Bucky’s arm, snuggling up against his side. The resulting chart showed a lot of green and yellow, places where they agreed or were only a couple of degrees apart in their enthusiasm for things. “Well, that’s promising,” Tony said cheerfully. “Lots of things we can try.”

“No doubt,” Bucky said, his arm tightening around Tony’s shoulders, pulling him close. “We’ll give this a whirl. When?” The darker part of him was already rubbing its hands together and putting together plans. The rest of him was still bordering on worried. He knew -- now -- that normal couples did this sort of thing all the time, but Bucky was no one’s definition of normal. He could hurt Tony. Permanently.

“Not tonight; it’s late and I have another meeting in the morning. This weekend, maybe, if Evil behaves itself and that’s not too soon?”

Bucky allowed himself a brief chuckle and squashed down a spurt of disappointment. “It’s Evil, babydoll. By definition, it don’t behave.” He nuzzled at Tony’s neck. “It’s a date, then.”

 


	2. 1 - Bondage (sub!Tony)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: BDSM, safewords, non-existent refractory period, Dom/sub, oral sex, anal sex, bondage, safeword use, risk aware consensual kink, spanking, aftercare, trust issues

Putting Tony on his knees had been just about the most intense experience of Bucky’s life up to that point.

He’d expected to feel a bit silly. He’d expected Tony to smirk and eye him with that teasing appreciation that Tony often had for a flustered and blushing Bucky. He wasn’t entirely certain how to enforce his will on Tony; Tony was the strongest-willed person Bucky’d ever met.

What he wasn’t expecting was to point at the floor and simply say, “Kneel here,” and for Tony to actually do it. Eyes downcast, he folded in on himself, wrists crossed at the small of his back and bending down until he was on his knees, sitting on his heels, chin down on his chest.

What Bucky further didn’t expect was the rush of heat and wanting that swept over him. Just from _watching_ Tony. There was intense, urgent need to kiss Tony, posses that smart mouth, and Bucky realized with a shock that he _could_. Just because he wanted to. They’d already agreed to it.

Bucky squatted and gripped Tony’s chin with his metal hand. He knew that particularly turned Tony on, but Bucky was often a little weirded out involving his prosthetic in their sex play. Plate bites could be painful.

_Hurting someone in a fun way._

He tipped Tony’s chin up and stared down into Tony’s face. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?” He traced a finger from his right hand over Tony’s face, the line of his lower lip. Let the fingers on his left hand tighten, just a little. Enough that the pressure dented Tony’s skin.

Tony’s eyes were wide already; at that pressure, or maybe it was the words, his pupils widened. “Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, I am. God, that’s hot.” He hesitated only a breath before adding, “Sir.”

Bucky ran his finger back and forth over Tony’s lip. “Open your mouth,” Bucky told him. “I’m gonna kiss you. You... are not gonna kiss me back. Got it?”

Tony’s lower lip poked out in a brief pout, but he let his jaw relax, his mouth falling open temptingly. “Yes, sir.”

Bucky let go of Tony’s chin, slid the metal hand back until his thumb was stroking Tony’s throat and his fingers were on the back of his neck. Tilted him back, just a little more. Lowered his mouth to Tony’s. Flicked his tongue along Tony’s lip, teasing at his upper lip, then the sensitive join. Across the bottom lip. Bucky tilted his head to line them up, then plunged his tongue inside Tony’s mouth. A taste, quick and ruthless. Drew back, and licked at Tony’s bottom lip again. Nipped at that plump flesh, tugged on it, a little harder than he would, normally. Wanting that spark there.

Tony whined, but it was the same sound he made when they were having sex and Bucky wasn’t moving fast enough for him. A wordless plea for _more_. His breath was already coming faster, puffing across Bucky’s skin. His eyelids had fallen shut, but they fluttered open the instant Bucky pulled away to look at him.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” Bucky’s fingers tightened on the back of Tony’s neck, gripping his skull. “Is it the hand that’s doin’ it for you?” So many of the papers and guides he’d read suggested checking in frequently with a new partner. This was as new as it got, really.

“Yeah,” Tony breathed. He swallowed, eyes flicking to Bucky’s mouth and back up. “Hard not to kiss you back when I want to, so much. But yeah, the hand is... is good.”

Bucky allowed himself a smile, dark and sinister. “Well, tonight’s not about what you want, is it? Tonight, you’re going to please _me_.” He leaned in, kissed Tony again, harder that time, faster, exploring every corner of that lush mouth, licked along his teeth and against the roof of his mouth. By the time Tony was whimpering, Bucky was ready to move on. He used his grip on Tony’s skull to knock him over, onto his ass, sprawling on the floor. “Get up. Strip. Then back on your knees. While I get everything ready for you.”

“Yessir,” Tony breathed, hands tugging at his shirt even as he scrambled up onto his feet. He dropped the shirt to the floor and fumbled for a moment with his jeans. He hopped a little to free his foot, and kicked the jeans over to where he’d left the shirt. Underwear and socks went into the same untidy pile, and then he was back on the floor, very precisely where he’d started, his hands tucked into the small of his back as he watched Bucky avidly.

“Sloppy,” Bucky murmured, just loud enough to be heard. He pulled a few toys out of their box -- Tony might have gone a little overboard with the shopping, but Bucky didn’t have the heart, or the courage, really, to tell him no. Tony wouldn’t have bought it, if he didn’t anticipate Bucky using it, would he?

The padded bench was a good start. Enough for some stunning visuals and it would put that pretty, pert ass of Tony’s on display for him. Cuffs. The sort of paddle that Bucky associated with ping-pong, except it was smooth on one side and pointy like a meat tenderizer on the other. A plug to keep Tony open for him. Hmm. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea; he could use his short refractory period for a bit of fun. Tony was usually only good for one orgasm, sometimes two if Bucky pushed him, but then he was wiped out for a good while.

“All right,” Bucky said. “C’mere. Stand. Arms behind your neck. I wanna look at what’s mine.”

Tony obeyed quickly, which was still worth marveling over, given the way he argued endlessly with orders during a battle. He wasn’t the least bit body-shy, either. He stood straight, elbows out to the side as he laced his fingers behind his neck, cock fully hard where it jutted out. His eyes followed Bucky’s every move.

Bucky looked him over, touching light. Using both hands, which he rarely did, the contrast of smooth, circuit and steel and wire nerves providing different sensations than the skin and bones hand. He’d never noticed, or maybe it was that he tried so hard to pretend the metal hand wasn’t part of him, kept it gloved most of the time. Marveling, he ran his fingertips over Tony’s collarbones, down the planes of Tony’s chest, along Tony’s hips. Skating touches across Tony’s belly, then he hunkered down so he could touch and caress Tony’s thighs, calves. He scooched over and went back up. The back of his knees, the curve of his buttocks, up his spine. Watching every shiver and twitch as Tony tried to stay still.

“Like what you see, sir?” Tony asked. He didn’t twist around to look at Bucky, but the twitch of muscles in his back and legs suggested he wanted to. He was shivering, a little bit -- anticipation? cold? sheer lust?

“Hmmmm,” Bucky answered that with a mostly neutral sound, before smacking Tony’s ass with a stinging slap. His skin rippled with the impact, went white and then reddened. “Think pretty highly of yourself, do you? We’ll see if you can please me. Looks aren’t everything.” He pushed the red spot with his finger, drew a circle as if marking his place. God, that was pretty.

Tony sucked air and his shoulders hunched, just a little, before squaring again. “Do my best,” he said, almost forgetting to tack on the, “sir.” Cocky. Certain of himself and his abilities.

Bucky grabbed the padded leather cuffs and bent to fasten them to Tony’s ankles. Funny, he’d never really noticed how gorgeous a man’s ankle could be. He locked the cuffs in place. Dropped a few warm, wet kisses up Tony’s thigh as he stood again, the last one just to one side of that proud, glorious cock. “Arms down, behind your back.” He cuffed Tony’s wrists and locked them together, a parade rest. “How’s that? You can hold your arms like that for a while?”

“No problem,” Tony said. He twisted his wrists a little against the padding, testing, then nodded. “Yeah, this is fine. Sir.”

“Good.” He grabbed hold of Tony’s hair again. It would do, until he got himself a leash, and his knees went a little watery at that thought. “Bench. I have a use for that smart mouth of yours.” He kept a watch on Tony’s movements: pulling Tony’s hair was fun, but pulling it _out_ would be awkward. He turned Tony toward the bench, eyeballed the height. Bent Tony over the rounded top and put a hand on the small of his back, keeping him in position. “Spread. ‘Til your leg touches my hand.”

Tony wriggled a little, settling, and then a little more, then opened his legs. And then a little more, and more still, until he ran into Bucky’s hand. “Like that, sir?”

Perfect. He clipped the ankle cuffs into position. Tony could stand flat-footed and give his calves and feet a rest, but that would dig the bench’s bar into his stomach and chest. Or, he could go up on tiptoe. Either way, a little bit uncomfortable. “There you are. Perfect. Well done.” A little praise. And it was well done. Tony’s ass was on display, pink and round and perfect. Like a peach. Bucky always wanted to take a bite of it.

So, he did. Just a sharp, little nip, right at the curve where it met his thigh. Not even hard enough to leave an imprint of teeth, just a red mark. Pretty. Bucky leaned to the other side and did it again.

Tony squeaked a little, and squirmed on the bench, trying to move away without actually moving away. “Kinky,” he said, laughing slightly breathlessly. “I thought you were going to let me get my mouth on you.”

Bucky blinked. Not that Tony wasn’t usually bossy and smart-mouthed in bed; truth, it was one of the things Bucky liked best about him. But it seemed out of place. Forced. “You gonna make me make you be good, honey? S’that what you want?” He flexed his metal hand several times in quick succession, throwing down an override on the vent controls. Building up heat. He knew the sound of the servos whining was distinctive, but without the click of the plates, unnerving. _Go ahead, Tony_ , Bucky thought. _Say something._

“I’m being good!” Tony protested. “You didn’t say I couldn’t talk!”

“No,” Bucky said, gently. He stood up, ran a line of wet kisses up Tony’s back, fingers still flexing until the first of the internal heat alarms pinged. “You’re pushin’. Tryin’ to direct things from the bottom. You forget who’s in charge here, baby.”

He hesitated, then cupped his overheated hand on the curve of Tony’s ass. It wasn’t too hot, not like a curling iron or stove burner. Just hot like the outside of a cup of overheated coffee. Not enough to burn, but enough to startle and sting like hell.

“Ow, shit!” Tony pushed up onto his toes, trying to get away from the heat, straining, then sagged back into position. “Okay, okay, I’ll behave, I’ll be good!”

Bucky let go, then flexed his fingers again. “Sir,” he corrected, deceptively gentle. Flex, _whine_.

“Sir!” Tony said quickly. “Sorry, I’m-- I forgot, I’m sorry, sir.”

Bucky opened the vents, let the heat drain out. His hand was still a little warm, but not uncomfortably so as he circled around to the front of the bench to look at Tony from that angle. Tony’s eyes were wide, still sparkling with anticipation. He was up on his toes. Gorgeous and perfect and belonged to Bucky. The heat in Bucky’s arm drained out, but seemed to pool and coil around his spine.

“Gonna give you somethin’ here,” Bucky said. “You take it, make it sweet. An’ Tony?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re on th’ clock for this one. I want t’ come in five minutes. No sooner, and not much longer.” He leaned in close, pushed one finger into Tony’s mouth and stroked the inside of his cheek. “You think you can do that, sweetheart, for me?” He stood up and stripped his tee off, then unzipped.

Tony licked his lips. “I’ll try, sir. Can I have a clock projected? My internal timekeeping isn’t as good as yours.”

Bucky considered that for a moment, then nodded, and JARVIS (thank God, the AI didn’t fucking comment on it) projected a blue glowing countdown timer on the wall behind Bucky’s shoulder.

He stepped closer to the bench, admired the visuals of Tony up on tiptoe, straining to reach, and kept it just to that stretch, before offering Tony his cock. “Ready? Steady. Go.”

The countdown timer flickered and started its downward spiral.

Tony opened his mouth and closed it over the head of Bucky’s cock, sucking gently, almost no real suction at first, just a light flick of his tongue across Bucky’s slit in some rhythm that only made sense in Tony’s head. He sighed with what sounded like pleasure, wriggled some more in place, and pulled Bucky farther in, tongue dancing as he tipped his head to eye the clock and then look up at Bucky through his lashes. A soft hum vibrated sensation deep into Bucky’s groin, a jolt of pleasure that pulled like taffy.

It was slow and dirty and _perfect_ , a moment suspended in amber. Tony drew it out carefully, pulling away or slowing down when Bucky took a harder breath, until a full four minutes had passed. Then he pushed deeper, groaning as his cheeks hollowed, tongue busy along the ridge, skating down the thick vein, teasing at Bucky’s slit without mercy.

“Oh, good, that’s so good, baby,” Bucky said. He braced one hand on the bench for support and let Tony wreck him. Tony’s mouth was so sweet, skilled. Slick and hot and wet and Bucky loved it. Bucky let his hips roll, pumping into Tony’s mouth in short, jagged thrusts. The need built and built, he was close, but _damn_ , he didn’t want it to stop. He drew back a little, not enough to pull away, but to make Tony strain and stretch to reach, teasing him. And drawing the whole thing out. Make Tony really work for it.

The countdown timer went red at five minutes and started counting out the negative numbers. Bucky hummed thoughtfully, as if he wasn’t right up there on the edge.

Tony whined a little, deep in his throat, and redoubled his efforts. His breath spilled harsh out of his nose as he fought to take Bucky deeper, straining to push forward. Each lash of his tongue was a little more desperate than the last, because Bucky hadn’t specified exactly what “too much past” meant.

Oh _god_ , he wasn’t going to be able to hold it any longer unless he backed all the way off. With a stuttering groan, Bucky arched back, hips thrusting forward entirely out of his control. He bit down on his lower lip, eyes rolling back. Tony’s tongue lashed against him, swept over the ridge, and then Bucky was coming, painting Tony’s tongue and chin with his spill. “Oh, Christ,” Bucky managed, barely staying on his feet.

Tony swallowed, and swallowed again, licking as much of Bucky’s come from his lips as he could reach with his tongue. He was breathing hard, in fast, shallow pants that pushed roughly out of his throat. It was a moment before he managed to look up at Bucky again. He half-opened his mouth, then apparently thought better of whatever he’d been about to say and closed it again, waiting for Bucky’s verdict.

Bucky checked the time. Seven and a half minutes. Not too bad. He gave Tony a smile. “Pretty good job, honey. You’re very good at that. Not that you don’t know it.” He ran his finger over Tony’s chin, catching up some of the spill. “You need a drink, baby? Check in with me.”

“I’m fine, sir.” Tony squirmed a little, pushing up on his toes to get his chest off the bench. “Green and ready to go.”

“All right,” Bucky said. He tucked himself back into his jeans, admired the well-used look of Tony’s mouth. Reached over him and unlocked his wrists. “Shake out, then we’ll take you all the way over the bench.”

Tony shook out his arms, looking relieved, then offered his wrists to Bucky again without comment, letting Bucky pull him into position.

God, Tony was so beautiful. He spread Tony’s arms, so he was spread-eagle, but bent in half over the bench. “Here, hold these,” Bucky said, offering the leather tab of the bondage keys to Tony, who took them in his teeth while Bucky fussed with the locks, unnecessarily. He could do that sort of thing in his sleep, even if he really didn’t want to think about where those skills had come from.

He took the keys back from Tony and put them on the floor, right where Tony could see them and have no prayer at all of being able to reach them. A subtle taunt.

“Relax your neck, baby,” Bucky said, since Tony kept twisting, trying to see. He rubbed at the back of Tony’s neck with his fingers, massaging out some of the tension there. “You’ll probably get a headrush, dizzy. Let me know, and I’ll let you up for a break, okay?” He kissed Tony on his spine, in the center of his back. Walked all the way around, a full circle, to admire his handiwork, and then settled behind him. The bite marks were still there, red and angry-looking. Like little roses.

Bucky grabbed the little bottle of lube, slicked his fingers up, and proceeded to open Tony’s hole. Diligent, thorough, slow. Slower than Tony preferred. He was always wiggling around and pushing and driving Bucky absolutely crazy until Bucky relented and helped him push through the burn. Bucky’d already come, so his urge wasn’t quite so frantic. And Tony couldn’t do anything about it.

So he took his time, circled and teased and tempted. Ran a metal finger over that tight pucker. Coaxing the muscle to relax, even as he wound Tony up, and then up some more.

Tony writhed and whined and tried to push back into Bucky’s touch, but without any real leverage, he couldn’t go far. “Please, sir,” he begged. “More, _please_.”

Bucky just hummed thoughtfully and worked Tony open at a glacial pace, teasing at his hole, breaching him with one finger, and thoroughly fucking him with it. “So,” he said, as if they were having a normal conversation and not that Tony was being tortured, “question for you, darling. You want a metal one in you? I could do that for you. You’re being so good, staying nice and still for me, I don’t think it’d be too much of a risk, do you? Of course, there’s a cost. I give you something, you give me something, right? If you want, I’ll use a metal one in you, but then I get to paddle you. Does that sound good to you, baby? Gimme a color.”

“Oh, god, yes,” Tony hissed. “Green as hell, yes, _please_ , sir.”

“Gonna glove up for this,” Bucky told him. “Otherwise you’re gonna spend your aftercare cleaning lube out of the socket joins.” He fished around in the box until he found the nitrile gloves. Absently, he stretched it out and let the elastic snap Tony’s ass, raising another pink mark and a trace of talcum powder.

“Mean, sir, that’s very mean,” Tony said, sounding like he meant anything but. He wiggled in anticipation. “God, this is going to be so awesome.”

He rubbed over Tony’s hole with his gloved and lubed thumb, watching the muscle flutter and twitch. “God, you are so, so beautiful like this, Tony. I…” he dropped a kiss on Tony’s ass. “Thank you.” He prodded, gently, at Tony’s opening. Pushed in lightly with his index finger, turning it as he went. The plates were locked down, each ridge probably zinging with sensation for Tony as Bucky slipped it in, like a ribbed dildo. “Yeah, that’s good?” He twisted, slow, achingly slow, until the sensorpack told him exactly where he was; it was almost like having some sort of sonar. Huh. He should have tried this before, because his metal fingertip was so damn sensitive. He rubbed the little plum-shaped gland inside Tony’s body, relentlessly stroking.

“Oh, _fuck_ , yes, god,” Tony gasped. “That’s-- Oh... That’s good,” he panted, each word coming hard. “More, sir, please?”

Bucky worked him up slowly, two fingers for a good long while, then three, adding lube along the way. He teased at the rim of Tony’s opening with his right thumb, a delicious counterpoint to the rougher strokes of his left fingers until Tony was all but sobbing.

His own erection was getting more and more insistent and Tony was open and so, so ready. It was beautiful, that needy whine in his voice, the way his breathing was harsh and gasping. He left two metal fingers inside Tony and leaned over him. “Baby, if I fuck you now, you gonna come, or should I give you your spanking first?” Tony’s face was dark red, and he had to be dizzy as hell, but he hadn’t checked in on a slow down, or to get upright. Bucky nudged him. “Baby?”

“‘M okay,” Tony said. “God, don’t stop now, I... If you spank me first, I am _definitely_ going to come. So I guess it...” He paused, panting. “It depends if you want that, or not.”

“A’ight,” Bucky said. “Gonna fuck you for a few minutes, baby. Then stick a plug in you and you’ll get your spanking. And then I’m gonna fuck you again. Okay?” He ran a soothing finger up Tony’s back and noted how hard he was shivering. “You cold?” Could be. Tony’s skin was clammy with sweat. Continued petting him, noticed that Tony was still up on his toes; that was where the shaking was coming from.

“Not cold,” Tony said. “Sir. Just... you’re making me work for it, is all. ‘S good.”

“You’re a good boy,” Bucky told him, massaging both of Tony’s asscheeks, easing the tension in his thighs. “So good for me.” He unzipped and let his jeans fall around his thighs, slicked himself up. “You’re gonna feel so good.”

He knew if he dragged it out much longer, Tony was going to come, he could see it in the way Tony’s balls were tight and drawn up.

_Hurt someone in the fun way._

He didn’t go gentle, or slow. He’d gotten Tony ready, and slid in to that warm, slick passage, feeling the squeeze past the ring of muscle. “Oh, god,” Bucky murmured. “God you’re so hot, Tony, I…” He held it, a moment, until the clench eased up. Dug his thumbs into those bite marks on Tony’s ass and fucked into him. Steady, plunging, relentless rhythm. Not taking his time at all, but chasing sensation. Listening to Tony’s moans and whimpers and torrent of pleading words coming out of his mouth.

Tony’s breath came harder and faster and rougher, a soft grunt pushing his breath out with each of Bucky’s thrusts. “Please, sir,” he rasped, “I need... Need you. Please.”

“You got me, baby,” Bucky said. He stroked down Tony’s hips, touching everywhere, Christ, he loved his man. His skin was cool, almost cold, damp with sweat and-- what the _hell_?

There was a hot spot, right over Tony’s ribs, as Bucky touched and stroked him, and Tony out and out flinched when Bucky’s hand touched him there. He hissed as he eased back into place, pushing up even higher on his toes.

“Tony? Check in for me. You okay?”

“F-fine,” he managed. “Feels so good, sir, I...” He paused for breath again, and this time it... whistled, just a little, a hint of a wheeze at the back of his throat.

Shit. Shit shit _shit_. Panic fluttered in the back of Bucky’s throat, slithering like a snake down his spine. What… christ, this was going to suck no matter what he did. He groped around for the plug. “Baby, no,” Bucky said. “No, this is red, you talk to me Tony.” He pulled back and out. His dick, which had absolutely no interest in Tony’s well-being at all, complained, but Bucky ignored it.

“No,” Tony complained, “I’m fine, it’s just a little... little tender, but I don’t have to stop, I’m okay.”

Bucky all but snarled, “No, it’s not fine.” He lubed the plug, quick, and twisted it into place, knowing how weird and uncomfortable being abruptly _empty_ was, how desolate it could make him feel, especially when he hadn’t come. “Hang on, baby, I wanna see. What’s tender? Tony, baby, please tell me what happened--” He came ‘round the front, snatched up the keys and got Tony’s hands free in short order.

Tony pushed up on his hands as soon as they were free, lifting his torso off the bench, and gasped in relief. “My... where the... the arc reactor was,” he panted. “Just a little... achy. From the... pressure. ‘M okay.”

Bucky leaned in and looked; there was a hard press-crease from where Tony had been trying to stay off the bench’s surface and failed miserably. That area was swollen and red and even under Bucky’s most gentle touch, Tony hissed and flinched involuntarily. The skin was brutally hot to the touch, like a flash fever. “You’re _not_ okay,” Bucky insisted. “Red. _Red_ , Tony, I’m calling this.”

Tony’s face twisted, disappointment and disgust. “I wanted it to be good for you.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped and landed somewhere near the south pole. Of course Tony was going to blame himself. Of course he was. “Hey, no,” he said, infinitely gentle. “You’re the best, baby. Absolutely. C’mon with me, now. Let me get you out of this and into bed, okay? You’re cold. All right?” He scurried around to the other side of the rig, tucking himself back into his jeans against his body’s wishes, but he was pretty sure Tony was going to collapse when his feet were loose and Bucky wanted to be able to catch him.

One ankle. “Lean on me, honey, and let's get you straightened up, okay?”

“I am not at all straight,” Tony quipped, but he let Bucky help him back up, needing Bucky to lift him out of the position he’d been in. “Oh, oh shit, pins and needles, ow, fuck.”

“I got you,” Bucky told Tony. “I got you. Hang on, lemme get… there you go, all free. Can you move your arms around my neck, or do they hurt, too?”

“Arms’re fine,” Tony said, leaning into Bucky as he wrapped them around Bucky’s shoulders. At least his breathing seemed to be coming easier now. “Damn it.”

“Uh-huh, I hear that,” Bucky said. He lifted, cradling Tony against his chest. “It’s okay, Tony. Don’t you worry about nothin’, everything’s fine.” He got over to the bed and put Tony down as carefully as possible, gritting his teeth a bit, because even that gentle, it was probably going to jostle the plug that he’d tucked into Tony’s hole. “How are you feeling? You can breathe better, now?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I’m just mad at myself.” He rubbed at his face with one hand. “Sorry.”

“Let’s not talk about this right now, okay?” Bucky patted Tony’s leg a few times, then pulled the blankets up over him. “You rest there for a minute, I’m gonna get you cleaned up and something to drink, and… stuff.” Bucky waved a hand around, probably a little harsher than he needed to. Yeah, there went Tony, flinching again. Shit. _Shit_. “It’s fine, baby, it’s fine. Okay? You believe that right? I’m not--” _Fuck_. He was right up against the one promise, the only one he’d ever made to Tony. No lies. Never. He was about to say he wasn’t mad, and that wasn’t true at all. He was fucking _furious_ , honestly. He cut himself off. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

Tony was watching Bucky carefully, _cautiously_. Yeah, he’d figured out that Bucky was mad, because he wasn’t a genius for nothing. But he pressed his lips together and nodded, eyes skating sideways, not quite able to meet Bucky’s. “Okay.”

 


	3. Interlude - Scene 1 Debrief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: BDSM, aftercare, discussions of kink, trust issues

“So,” Bucky said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He had a warm, damp wash cloth in one hand and bottled water in the other. He offered the bottle to Tony and started carefully cleaning Tony up, avoiding the painful slash across Tony’s chest. “Aftercare. Does that, like, include masturbatin’? ‘Cause I know you didn’t finish an’ I got you pretty wound up. Don’t wanna leave you hanging.”

Tony was startled into a laugh, only just avoiding spraying half the bed with the water he’d just taken a sip of. “I’m--” He managed to choke himself off before he actually said _I’m okay_ , because he was pretty sure Bucky didn’t want to hear that phrase ever again. Certainly not for the rest of the night. “Not hanging, really,” he adjusted. “Not saying I wouldn’t go from idle to sixty in one-point-three if you started revving things up again, but all... _that_ kind of cooled my jets.” Besides, if Bucky was still mad at him, Tony wasn’t sure that was remotely fair to ask. “You had a kind of cold turkey stop, too,” he pointed out. “How’re you hanging?”

“Pretty sure my dick’s on strike right now,” Bucky said, easily. “It’ll get off th’ picket line if I provide incentive, but right now, it’s okay.” He eyed Tony cautiously. “You up t’ rollin’ over? I’ll take that plug out an’ get you cleaned up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Tony grabbed a spare pillow to cushion his chest as he rolled over. “Aside from the limitations that I hadn’t even thought about in advance, because I haven’t done this since before... I thought you were doing spectacularly, by the way.” He wasn’t just saying that to try to sweeten Bucky’s temper, either. If his damn half-reconstructed sternum hadn’t started pressing hard into his lungs, it would’ve been a _perfect_ scene.

Bucky made a noncommittal sort of grunt that could have meant anything from _yeah, I agree_ , to _you are an idiot and I’m trying not to yell at you_. He twisted the base of the plug, took a deep breath, and popped it out. It was accompanied by a splatter of lube against Tony’s leg that had been warm enough inside, but rapidly cooled down on contact with the air. Bucky folded the washcloth and cleaned that, too. It was a little squirmy, as the washcloth had also cooled off. Before Tony could work himself up into a shiver, Bucky was pulling the blankets up around him. “There you go.” He looked at Tony carefully, tipping his chin gently and peering into his eyes. “Okay. I was gonna go clean this up, but I think you need me t’ stay with you. Yes?”

“It... would go a long way toward reassuring me that you’re not leaving for good,” Tony admitted. It hurt to say, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to just _ask_ , either.

“Oh my god,” Bucky said, face suddenly stricken. “Tony… Tony, _baby_ , you don’t believe that, do you?” Bucky shucked out of his jeans and climbed into the bed, curling up at Tony’s side. “No, no, no, Tony. Honey. Oh, _god_. Can I.. can I touch you, are you okay for that?”

Tony just rolled up against Bucky’s warmth, hiding his face in Bucky’s chest. “There’s... knowing things in my head, and there’s _really_ knowing them,” he sighed. “And you’re... pretty damn mad at me.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, slowly, even though he didn’t sound mad. “I am furious, Tony. We promised, no lyin’. I am so goddamn angry right now I can’t _think_.” He was holding Tony like Tony was something fragile and precious, one hand in Tony’s hair and the other one stroking Tony’s back with soft, soothing touches.

“There is a. Serious disconnect between words and actions, here,” Tony pointed out. He didn’t move, though. It felt too nice.

“It’s complicated,” Bucky said, nosing in Tony’s hair. “An’ bein’ angry’s _not_ complicated. So, yeah. Gimme a minute, I’ll… try an’ make some sense of it.” He continued to pet and stroke and cuddle, fingers tracing the line of Tony’s jaw, down his throat. When Tony moved his head a little, instinctively directing those caresses to the perfect spots, Bucky leaned in and kissed Tony’s forehead, his cheek, the bridge of his nose.

Tony sighed and slipped his arm around Bucky’s waist, holding close. “Does it help if I say I didn’t mean to let it get so far?”

“I ain’t s’posed to let you get hurt, Tony,” Bucky said, mournfully. “Not _really_ hurt. I didn’t… I didn’t realize… Tony, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Tony said firmly. “You asked, and I said I was fine. That’s on me, because I didn’t know how bad it was and I thought I could just... power through it.”

Bucky leaned up on his elbow. “Look at me, baby.”

He didn’t want to. This was going to be the _lecture_ , the _anger_. This was where his failings got spelled out in fifty-foot high letters, and he wanted to just. Not. But he couldn’t skip this part, could he? He gave himself one good scrunched-up face of frustration, then swallowed a sigh and tipped back his head.

“I keep wonderin’,” Bucky said, slow, his thumb moving up and down Tony’s neck, tracing the pulse point there, “what I musta done wrong. Not just _this_ \--” he waved his hand around, indicting the evening gone off rails “-- but… Tony, you don’t need to _harm yourself_ t’ earn my love. I love you no matter what. If you tap out. If we never do this again. If you never even want me to _touch_ you again, I will still love you. What did I do, that makes you think I’m gonna turn tail an’ run th’ first time somethin’ goes wrong?” His eyes shimmered for a moment, and then he was blinking, eyelashes sticky with unshed tears.

Oh, little pink jesus, he’d fucked up _hard_. “That’s not on you, Bucky,” Tony said. “Honey, that’s... that’s my problem, my, y’know, weird abandonment issues, it’s nothing to do with _you_. Like I said, there’s knowing a thing, and then _knowing_ it. And I know, with my not-inconsiderable genius, that you’re sticking around for... well, at least a pretty good haul. But I’m not always rational. You may have noticed.”

Bucky snorted. “Y’don’t say,” he said. “Look, okay, we’ll work on that. You really gotta do somethin’ about that self-fulfilling prophecy. But… Tony, we can’t do this again. Not if I can’t trust you. You gotta tell me when somethin’s wrong. I could _hurt_ you. Baby, you know I worry about that all th’ time. If I can’t believe you when you say you’re fine, this ain’t gonna work. We can go back t’ having sex like normal, where I mostly know how t’ control myself an’ I ain’t in danger of _crushing your fuckin’ rib cage, Tony_.” Bucky’s voice spiraled up into panic, panting for air and his hands were tight on Tony’s arms.

“Hey, you didn’t do that, I’m not hurt,” Tony said, trying to project _soothing_ and probably not doing a great job of it. Soothing really wasn’t his forte. “You weren’t _going_ to do that. At worst, even if we’d kept going, some bruising.” Internal bruising, which was a bitch and a half, but no need to bring that up. “I’m stronger and sturdier than you think.”

“No more _powering through,_ Tony, I’m serious,” Bucky said. “If you can’t promise, an’ keep that, then this stops. I will _not_ hurt you. I--” He brushed a hand over Tony’s cheek and then kissed him, soft and gentle. “I liked it. _A lot_. You… god, you were perfect. So fucking gorgeous. I liked it. Not enough to put you in the hospital over it. I know you’re tough. I know. But in the end, baby, you’re still human, and… I ain’t.”

Tony sighed. “You’re plenty human, honey. No, I know what you mean, I just... There’s a certain amount of endurance that’s called for, you know that, right? If you want me to check in with every little twinge, you’re going to end up with the brattiest crybaby sub in... well, at least in Manhattan.”

“Did you _honestly_ not know?” Bucky asked him, searching his face. “Did you really not realize? You wouldn’t do that, would you? Pretend everything’s fine rather than take something away from me that you think I wanted?” There was some bitter sarcasm, and it scraped at him, hard.

Tony winced, because he’d known. He hadn’t realized just _how_ bad it had gotten, but he’d known it wasn’t the fun kind of pain, for sure. “You got me,” he admitted. “I’m not going to just stop wanting to give you everything, though.”

“I know that, honey,” Bucky said. He kissed Tony again, a little harder, a little more heat. “So, I want you t’ listen to me here, real close. I want… more than anything in the world. You to not do that again. I know there’s discomfort in this, and I know you’re a superhero. There’s catastrophic risk in everything we do. I accept that. I’m… mostly okay with it. I got a little leftover wantin’ to stand between you an’ incoming bullets, but we’re makin’ it work. So… you gotta work with me, here. You want this. I want this. But… I want you to… “ Bucky waved his hand around, frustrated. “Keep all your bits in working order. Are you okay with that?”

Tony took a breath, and let it out. Sometimes he was the luckiest goddamn son of a bitch walking. “Yeah, honey. I’m okay with that. No more toughing it out.”

“I love you.” Bucky nuzzled at him again. “You can’t get rid of me by actin’ dumb. Steve’s got seventy years on you for bein’ dumb and me stickin’ around anyway.”

Tony huffed a laugh. “I’m not sure whether to blame that on Steve’s natural stubbornness, or yours.”

“Both. Why can’t it be both?”

 


	4. 2 - Shibari (sub!Tony)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: BDSM, safewords, anal sex, bondage, safeword use, risk aware consensual kink, spanking, aftercare, shibari, nipple clamps, Tony is a brat

Tony sat on the edge of the bed, watching nervously as Bucky laid out the ropes. He’d already stripped, and -- remembering that disdainful “Sloppy,” from their first aborted session -- draped his clothes neatly over the back of the armchair. This was going to be a very different session from the first, in a lot of ways.

Tony hadn’t meant to push himself to the point of damage that time, but he _had_ thought about calling a halt and then swallowed it, not wanting to sour Bucky’s experience. Which had... nearly ruined Bucky’s experience. Tony wasn’t used to partners who valued his comfort so highly. Usually, when he said he could handle it, they took him at his word -- and it wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy the scenes. The bruises and lingering twinges that came from powering through discomfort were totally worth the experience, in his opinion.

But Bucky liked to treat Tony like fine china. Not because Tony was actually delicate, but because Tony was _precious_. It had taken Tony some work to appreciate the difference, but he thought he had it in hand now. And he was going to do better, this time. He’d promised. And he never wanted to see that awful, guilty look in Bucky’s eyes again.

But Bucky was maybe a little hesitant to push Tony around as much this time, which was slightly disappointing, but fair. Tony was grateful Bucky hadn’t just called a halt to the entire experiment, to be honest. So if Bucky wanted to go with something that kept Tony upright and more easily inspected this time, well, that was understandable.

But _shibari_... Tony had trouble sitting still at the best of times, without something to occupy his hands or engage his thoughts. He was fidgety even watching a movie. But for this, he’d have to be still for a long time, with nothing more to think about than the feel of rope sliding on his skin, and Bucky. Tony loved Bucky, but that wasn’t much to keep his brain going. It was hard for Tony to get into the right headspace for shibari, even if he loved it once he got there. He hoped Bucky knew what he was getting into.

Bucky definitely had a color scheme going on with the ropes. Thick black and silver ropes in assorted lengths were coiled neatly on the floor, arranged by some method Tony couldn’t guess -- order of use, maybe. And a smaller coil of dark red.

Bucky finished arranging things and sat back on his heels, looking over at Tony. Tony’s stomach clenched with nervous anticipation.

“So,” Bucky said, and he had that air of coiled nerves; like a snake that was waiting for just the right moment, “I know stayin’ still is hard for you. So, thought I’d give you some incentive. This is gonna take a while, an’ you might get tempted to fidget around and spoil up my nice, pretty patterns.”

“Might. Sure, let’s go with _might_. What’ve you got for incentive, then?”

Reaching into his pocket, Bucky pulled out a small, black satin pouch that jingled. “I have these for you,” he said. He dumped the contents of the bag out into his hand, two impossibly delicate nipple clamps. With bells. “I’m gonna put these on you first--” he raised an eyebrow, checking in to make sure Tony was still green “--and then, every time I hear bells, you get a mark against you.”

“And what happens to those marks?” Tony wondered, though his heart had already sped up. A _challenge_ , that was something to concentrate on.

There was something about Bucky’s walk, predatory and eager, as he circled Tony, inspecting him. “Well, each mark, I’ll have to make sure you remember it. You move around too much, you’ll be taking dinner standing up for a few days. One mark, one smack. We’ll test that ass out, yes? See if you prefer stinging, or thuds. Do we have an accord?”

Oh, yes. There was no way Tony was going to get through this with _no_ marks, but that was good, he wanted that. But he could see wanting to _try_ , because too many would make his life very uncomfortable for a day or so. He grinned. “Hell, yes,” he agreed. “Green to go, sir.”

Bucky ducked his head and licked Tony’s nipple, flicked his tongue over it, sucked hard, then back to soothing strokes until it was peaked and hard. “There we go.”

Tony shuddered and shivered. He wondered if he were allowed to touch, but before he could ask, Bucky was slipping on the clamp. It was snug, but not too tight, and when Bucky raised an eyebrow at him again, Tony nodded. “It’s good.”

Bucky nodded, then flicked the other nipple, a little more pinching than pleasure, tormenting him with a sharp nip, and then locked that clamp in place as well. The bells rested against Tony’s chest, a little chilly at first, but warming rapidly. Bucky leaned back to look, and then flicked each nipple, listening to the chiming sound. “You go ahead and test those out, find out how much you can shift and I’ll get started over here. Got some braidin’ to do.” He picked up one of the long, black coils and a silver one and started twisting them together in a complicated pattern. He was kinda being an ass about it, too, smacking Tony with the tag end of the rope as he moved it around. _Accidentally_. Of course.

Tony snorted, but did as he’d been told, testing the movement the bells allowed. Some shuddery heavy breathing, a little careful twisting of his shoulders like he’d need to do to keep from getting too stiff. The bells were heavy enough that small, slow movements didn’t set them off, but if he forgot to go slow, they’d jangle. He fended off another smack with the rope and they jostled -- _clingaling!_ “I think I’ve got the measure of it now, sir,” Tony reported. It wasn’t going to be easy.

“All right,” Bucky said, easily. His fingers were moving quickly, knotting a long piece of rope into an elaborate pattern and what looked like a cuff at one end. “I won’t mark you for doing anything I ask you to do. So, come on over here, I need t’ check the length. I can’t do spacial math in my head as fast as you can. Lay down on the bed for a second, put your ass all the way down here and then spread your legs in the air.”

Tony scooted down toward the end of the bed ( _clingaling jangjing cling!_ ), then laid back and put his legs up, letting them fall out into a V. He wondered how long he’d have to hold that; workouts with Natasha had done amazing things for his abs but there was still only so long that was going to be doable.

Bucky hummed thoughtfully. Ran a light finger from Tony’s hole up to the base of his balls. “Damn, that’s pretty.” Then checked off the rope, from Tony’s ankle, around the bedpost about four feet up. Over the canopy, and around the other bedpost, back to Tony’s ankle. “Okay, this is long enough. Good. It’s hard to visualize how much length is lost, with the patterning. Stand back up and I’ll get you prepped. Once you’re in front of me, it’s time to be still.”

Tony took a breath: showtime. He swung up and to his feet in one smooth motion, because he wasn’t above a bit of showing off, and stepped up to Bucky, close enough to feel the heat radiating from Bucky’s body.

Bucky gave him a soft, sweet smile that was utterly at odds with the predatory demeanor he’d been projecting. “You’re very lovely,” he told Tony, earnestly. “Arms up, elbows bent. Turn around. Slowly.” Bucky picked up the dark red rope and bent it in half, sliding the whole thing around Tony’s chest, just under the bells. He slid the rope through the bight and tugged, just a little.

The jerk of the rope made the bells clatter a little, but Tony concentrated on holding as still as he could while Bucky wound the rope carefully around him. “Is this-- is that a star pattern?” he asked, trying to look down without setting the bells off. “Are you literally putting your mark on me? Sir?”

Bucky stopped tying for a moment, ran a finger around the shape; little, stroking touches interrupted like speed bumps where the ropes were. “I am. And it’s upside down for me, so you can see it and be reminded every time you look--” Bucky got to the point end of the star at Tony’s midriff and continued down to his navel, then followed the trail of hair down further “-- that you belong to me.”

Tony shivered, and one of the bells _ting_ ed softly. “Not going to lie,” he said, “the possessive thing is kind of hot in the bedroom.”

“Hmmm?” Bucky’s hand continued down, fingertips dragging over Tony’s belly, then down. Bucky took Tony in hand, stroked him a few times, slow, tugging lightly at the upstroke until Tony was fully hard. “Did I hear something, baby?”

“Knowing your hearing, you heard a mouse fart three buildings away,” Tony pointed out, “but if you’re _specifically_ referring to the bells, then yes. Though that wasn’t a _fidget_ , that was, that was your fault. Sir.”

“Uh-huh.” Bucky’s hand kept moving, up, down, teasing little brushes, then a stroke with his palm. Soft. Achingly slow. Never enough pressure. “Z’at so, Tony? Because, see, I don’t recall saying anything about that. Just that--” he circled around Tony again, hands moving, tracing over Tony’s buttocks, then up his arms. “--I wouldn’t punish you for doing what I _said_.” That went directly in Tony’s ear, then he nipped at the shell.

Tony shivered again, with a more audible _clingaling_. “Oh, I see how it is,” Tony said, already a little breathless. “You, _sir_ , are a cheating cheater who cheats.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, dryly sarcastic. “And that’s one.” He tugged the ropes again, finishing off the star. “Spread your legs a little bit, I got a belt pattern for you.” That rope was black, slicker than the red one, almost cool against Tony’s skin.

Tony was tempted to stamp his feet a little as he moved, to make the bells ring nice and loud, just because this was a “free” movement. But Bucky would probably decide that counted toward his marks, if he was _that_ much of a brat about it. He eyed the laid-out ropes dubiously. “There’s more rope there than there is _me_. Is that seriously all going on?”

“It shrinks a lot, when it’s woven,” Bucky said. Bucky put action to words, looping the black around Tony’s waist a few times and then threaded in a piece of the silver, making an elaborate framework that coiled around his middle, down one thigh and left an enormous rosette pattern on one hip, while his ass was completely bare, except the the two anchor ropes that curved just under his buttocks, pushing them up, so his butt was on display.

It took a while. Tony was so tempted to fidget, but the ache in his nipples was just enough to keep his mind centered, to remind him not to. He did manage to get in a wry line about the rope being a bra for his butt, because if he couldn’t move, he had to at least _talk_. What he was going to do if Bucky ever told him to be quiet, he had no idea.

“Hmm, yeah,” Bucky said. He finished off the knot he was currently working on and handed it to Tony. “Hold that a second, would you?” And then, still on his knees, turned Tony slowly until he was directly behind. Took two great handfuls of Tony’s ass and squeezed. “Nice.” He rubbed Tony’s ass. Pushed his cheeks apart, and then back together, thumbs dipping into his crack. “Looks good.”

Tony had to lock his knees for a moment to stop from sagging into Bucky’s hands, but the damn bells jingled anyway. “God, you’re such a cheat,” he mumbled.

“Two,” Bucky murmured, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. He added his mouth to the mix, licked just under the ropes all the way across Tony’s lower back, while still massaging and stroking Tony’s ass.

Tony fought to remain still, but managed to earn another mark before Bucky finally stopped and reached for the ropes again. “It’s a rigged game,” Tony sighed mournfully. “Why are you so mean.”

“You love it,” Bucky chided. He eyed the leg piece, practically whole cloth made out of rope that went most of the way from Tony’s thigh to his knee, leaving a small gap between his thigh and the belt around his waist. “That is pretty.” He walked around Tony again, admiring his handiwork and the artistic patterns around Tony’s body, trailing his fingers along Tony’s skin. “Okay, last bit. Gotta get your arms secured.” Despite saying it was for his arms, the rope started at the waist piece, made a diamond pattern that Bucky tucked against his pelvis, then lightly pushed Tony’s cock against it, the rope’s bumps and knots teasing against him. A quick movement of Bucky’s nimble fingers and Bucky secured his dick with three little loops that left just enough room that whenever Tony’s dick twitched, the head brushed against the rope pattern.

He knotted the rope, slid it around Tony’s balls, then up, between his buttcheeks, a knot placed precisely over his hole. Bucky pushed on the knot a little, rubbing it. “You need some lube there, baby, or do you think it’ll make it worse?” Bucky nudged the knot again.

The bells chimed as Tony shuddered, and he didn’t even care. “Depends how much you’re going to keep doing tha- _aaah!_ -at,” he stuttered out. “The good silicone stuff, if you’re going to keep being a cheating jerk. It won’t get absorbed by the rope as fast.”

Bucky laughed, wicked and low. “Oh, baby. I ain’t gonna be tuggin’ this rope. _You are_.” He finished the weave, taking the rope up Tony’s back, through the collar and then down, where he wrapped Tony’s arms behind his back, just a little higher than was comfortable. And _god damn it_ , the instant Tony tried to flex his arms, let them down, the rope tugged, sliding the knot over his hole.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Tony whined, tugging and then jerking at the result. _Tingaling!_ “Such a bastard. Sir.” It was fantastic. He wondered when and how Bucky had practiced doing this; the thought was intoxicating all on its own.

“Yeah, I think you’re gonna want the lube,” Bucky decided. “I don’t need this getting all abraded.” He slid a finger under the knot, rubbing and teasing. “Maybe next time, I’ll put a vibrator in here first, and every time you tug your arms, you can turn it on.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, that might be fun. See how desperate you get if I tell you t’ just stand there an’ let me watch.”

He was getting harder just _thinking_ about it, his cock rubbing against the ropes on his belly, his arms pulling the knot against his ass, and he had lost all count of the number of time he’d jumped and made the damn bells ring, tickling a little against his chest just under his aching nipples. He moaned and tried desperately to regain control.

“Aw, you hit ten, babydoll,” Bucky said, eyes gleaming. “That’s a bit of extra punishment.” The false sympathy in his voice was syrupy thick, almost mocking.

Tony whined through gritted teeth and forced himself to stillness through application of sheer will. “God, you’re cruel,” he panted.

Bucky tapped his foot. “Eleven.”

“Wha-- Nnnffffffuck. _Sir_ ,” Tony groaned.

“Better,” Bucky said. Bucky got out the little bottle of lube and slicked his fingers. Knelt and applied a generous coating to the knot, then rubbed all over Tony’s hole, already a little bit stinging from the knot. Teased a circle around him, breached him for a moment, sliding more lube inside.

The lube was a relief, actually; Tony hadn’t realized how rough the rope felt against that tender skin until it eased a little. And then it was more of a torment, with less of that edge of pain to leach out the arousal it caused. “Oh, fuck,” Tony whimpered. He couldn’t even hope that Bucky was planning to fuck him soon, not with that rope in the way.

“Check in with me. Gettin’ ready to move on to phase two.”

“Phase _two_?” Tony complained, not really meaning it. He was ready to call green without even thinking about it, but he remembered his resolve to be more aware of his status, so he paused to test his limbs for feeling, his skin for abrasion, the collar’s tightness. “I’m... green?” he reported after a moment. “Yeah, all green. Sir.”

“Good boy,” Bucky praised. “You can move. I’m going to give you a reward.” And Bucky leaned in, claimed Tony’s mouth for a kiss, hot and wet and sinful. He drew Tony’s tongue out, encouraging Tony to kiss back. He raised one hand and teased at Tony’s aching nipple, tugging on the bell and letting it ring.

Tony leaned into the kiss eagerly. He wished he could wrap his arms around Bucky’s neck, but another tug at the small of his back and against his hole reminded him that he couldn’t. He groaned and shuddered and pushed into Bucky’s touch with all the enthusiasm he could display without falling off-balance. “God, I love you,” he sighed.

“Love you, too,” Bucky said, grinning against Tony’s mouth. “Let’s move over t’ the bed, okay? I’ll help you.” Tony didn’t need much help walking, Bucky hadn’t bound his legs together, but his balance was weird without his arms, and each step rubbed that damn knot against him, slick and teasing. The way his arms shifted just made it worse.

Tony whined the whole way, but this wasn’t really that hard. He wanted to jerk off like crazy, but that was part of the fun, too. And having Bucky so close, his attention undivided and all for Tony... He glanced down at the red star on his chest and smiled, just a little, as Bucky was helping him sit back on the end of the bed.

“God, you look pretty,” Bucky said, biting at his bottom lip. “Tempted t’ have you walk around th’ room a few times. Bet that’d get you all eager, don’t you think?” He tugged at the rope with two fingers. “Nah, I’ll save that for when I got that vibe all set up for you. Lay back, I’ll help you.”

Getting Tony into place was about torture; there was nothing he could do to ease the tight rope between his buttcheeks; at one point he accidentally yanked it hard enough for the pressure to zing all the way up through his balls and tighten the loops around his dick, rubbing him against that mat with exquisite torment.

Once he was up on the bed, though, Bucky tugged his arms back into place, easing up on the pressure. He checked the knots and pressure points carefully. A little too carefully, maybe, since it seemed to involve licking up the shaft of Tony’s trapped cock.

“Oh, god,” Tony groaned. “What, exactly, is phase two?”

Bucky took a final taste. “Legs up,” he said, patting Tony’s thigh. He fetched the long rope that he’d braided first, and honestly, Tony had nearly forgotten about, looped one end around Tony’s ankle. “Go ahead, I wanna see you do some of the work. Kick ‘em up here.” He patted the bed pole.

Tony grunted. “I feel like I’m doing _plenty_ of work, here,” he said, even as he tightened his abs to lift his legs and -- oh, _fuck_ that did terrible, wonderful, awful things to the knot at his hole. His complaint slithered into a wordless whimper, but he did manage, loosely, to put his legs where Bucky wanted them.

“Good job,” Bucky said. He looped the cuff around Tony’s ankle and tightened it, then around the bed post, tugged it into place with a quick knot, then around the canopy, to the other side, until Tony was secured, on his back. Legs spread in a wide vee and held by the rope. Even secured, there was an ache in his core from holding the position, like he’d done a few too many crunches.

“You green, baby?”

Tony wriggled a little, testing. His midsection was tight, and the pressure on his shoulders from lying on his arms was not insignificant, but it wasn’t too bad. “Yeah,” he agreed. “For now. Don’t know how long I can hold it, though.”

Bucky nodded. “Long enough t’get your punishment in,” he said. “An’ then, I’ll let you down an’ I’ll hold your legs myself, while I fuck you.”

A shiver rippled through Tony’s body. “Yeah,” he agreed roughly. “That... I can do that.”

“So. eleven, was it? That seems like an annoying number. An even dozen, that’s better. Baker’s dozen?” Bucky pressed against the knot, wiggling his thumb while he talked. “You have an opinion, Tony?” He _kept_ moving the knot in slow circles.

“ _Four_ ,” Tony suggested, unable to keep from grinning. “That’s my opinion, sir.”

“Riiiiight,” Bucky drawled. He moved away for a moment and when he came back, he rested something thin and probably leather, against Tony’s ass. “You think I’m a cheater. I remember.” Tony was getting ready to say something, but it vanished in a sudden hot lash against his right ass cheek as Bucky smacked him with the leather. The crack the leather made against his skin was impressive, and then the white sizzle of pain throbbed angrily.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Tony gasped. “The hell is that?” Was it something he’d never felt before, or was that just Bucky’s strength giving an old instrument new life?

Bucky held up the tool, a short strap of double-stitched leather with a [bradded handle](https://www.etsy.com/listing/255252519/) and a brass ring on the grip end. “Bridle strap. English leather. Nice, yeah?”

“Very pretty,” Tony agreed hoarsely. “Stings like a sonovabitch.”

“It’s leaving a lovely red mark on your ass, too,” Bucky said. He ran his metal hand over the mark, the alloy chilly against the heat where his skin was complaining indignantly.

Tony rocked away from the touch, muscles squeezing, but that just made the knot pull again. “Ohhhh fuck oh shit,” Tony cursed, trying to settle back down, trying to remember how to relax and go limp so the next one wouldn’t hurt so much. It was going to hurt plenty as it was.

“ _Four_ , you said,” Bucky commented thoughtfully. The strap whistled through the air and came down on the same cheek, diagonal to the first, leaving a burning, stinging X. The center of which was excruciating before fading a little to a sizzle.

Tony clenched his teeth and hissed through the pain. The heat it left behind was _delectable_. “That’s two,” he noted. He wriggled a little, trying to get some of the pressure off his shoulder; it was distracting him.

Bucky shifted, and the next blow came down on the left cheek, and Tony was still gasping through that one when four followed, this time in a T pattern. Bucky backed off, looking down, tapping the strap against his hand, the leather making an ominous, threatening sound as it smacked into his palm.

“Pretty sure you earned more than four,” Bucky said, thoughtfully. “I’m quite sure… was it sixteen? Hmmm?” Smack, against Bucky’s palm.

Oh, _hell_. “Eleven,” Tony grated. Jesus, he might not survive _seven_ more blows from that thing. It was perfect and it was hellish.

“Hmmm.” There went that thumb again, pushing at the knot again, then his finger slid underneath, testing the lube, breaching his rim and twisting just inside, a light tug at each of the cardinal direction points, methodical. Making Tony clench his ass, which, in turn, made the rising welts sting and stretch savagely. “Are you sure? Eleven more? Maybe that’s right.”

“You are such a _troll_ ,” Tony accused, despite the hard breathing he was doing. “It’s... It’s...” He rolled his shoulders again, and wiggled his fingers. “I’m, uh. Might need to yellow. My hand’s going numb.”

Bucky twisted his wrist, pulling his finger out slowly, and then tucked the knot back in place. “How’s your hip? I c’n let one leg down and take a look-see.”

“Hip’s okay. Shoulder, not the best it’s ever been.” And it seemed like admitting that was making it hurt _more_. Damn it, he hated interruptions.

Bucky nodded, then unhooked one leg, helping Tony lower it, so he didn’t flop to the floor. Even that light, gentle motion stung the bruises on his ass. “Lift up a bit.” Bucky put a hand between his shoulder blades -- and _god damn it_ , that knot was going to kill him, he was going to die right there on the spot -- and bent him forward a little, which did stretch his hip. “Yeah, okay. Your fingers are cold.” Tony felt pressure on his hand, but no warmth and his whole arm felt like it’d been shot up with novocaine as Bucky shifted him in the rope ties. “Hang on.” There was a delicate sound of metal on metal and -- okay, maybe he needed to clarify that Bucky _should not_ keep his combat blades on him during play time? -- then the rope that held his arms in place let go. The knot slipped out of place and his shoulders went limp with relief.

“Oh, that’s better,” he sighed. He pulled at the aching shoulder and twisted the arm around. “Thanks.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Bucky said, seriously. “You wanna call it, or you think you can manage with your hands over your head? I c’n probably re-rig this. Might hafta forgo the knot-play, but… oh, I could set it up different.” His eyes gleamed with sudden, avid interest. “If you want.”

“I feel like you are not to be trusted when you’re making that face,” Tony said. “But I... do not want to call it.” He didn’t. His ass was going to _hate_ him for it, but god, Bucky was so fucking sexy like this.

Bucky chuckled, low, dark, and utterly wicked. “You love it.” He uncuffed Tony’s other leg, lowering it. “Take a breather, while I repurpose some of this. But… stay seated. And no squirming. We’re not done yet, so you could get more on your count.” He checked both nipple clamps while he was at it, and then because he couldn’t seem to resist, he licked one, thoroughly, teeth clicking against the clamp as he tongued Tony’s aching flesh.

Tony hissed and moaned and -- he couldn’t help himself -- slipped his fingers into Bucky’s hair, trying to tug Bucky upward to kiss him properly. He deserved a good kiss, if he had to _sit_ here on his welts, _without_ squirming. “Please,” he breathed.

“Mmmm,” Bucky said, moving easily into the kiss. “Love th’ way you taste. I could lick you all over, all day long, an’ never get bored.” He licked into Tony’s mouth, metal thumb on Tony’s chin, holding him in place, keeping his mouth open for Bucky’s ministrations. Bucky kissed him wet, torrid, wild. Bit down light on Tony’s bottom lip and tugged at it, before thrusting his tongue into Tony’s mouth.

Tony clung to Bucky’s shoulders and surrendered to the plundering of his mouth, desperate for it. When Bucky finally, slowly drew away, Tony was panting even harder than he had been after Bucky had smacked him with the strap. “Love you.” He took another couple of breaths, then let his hands go. “Okay, I’m... I think I can do this.”

“You’re good, baby,” Bucky said. “So very good for me. Don’t forget, sit still.”

Bucky fiddled with the ropes for a bit, checking the length. He took some of the thinner ropes that had bound Tony’s arms together and dropped them in Tony’s lap.

“Ok, I think this’ll work. Lay back on the bed, wrists above your head, okay?” He bound Tony’s wrists together with a loose chain of rope between them, enough for some movement, then the tie went over the canopy again, drawing his arms up and taut. He repeated the looser bondage at Tony’s ankles, leaving him with a hobble, then his legs went up and were secured to the other end of the rope. Meaning, if he lowered his legs, his arms were stretched higher, but lowering his arms pulled his legs up.

“And here’s the mean part, baby,” Bucky said, crooning over him. He twisted the rope, sliding it in through the loops around Tony’s dick, then drew a long piece up his chest and looped it over the wrist piece. Tugged it tight. Not too tight, but Tony could already tell, much of any movement on his part was going to shift and drag that dick-harness with unrelenting pressure.

“Hmm? How’s that, yeah?” Bucky asked. “Little relief for your poor, abused hole.” Bucky checked his hole, since it was on display. “Bit red here, bet it feels good having the pressure off.”

“Little, yeah.” Tony couldn’t help adding, “It wasn’t that bad yet,” in case Bucky thought he should’ve called a yellow for _that_. It was going to take some work to figure out where the line was, now.

“Okay,” Bucky said. He went back to his tray of tools. “Where were we? Two?” He picked something up, hefted it thoughtfully.

“You troll, we’ve done _four_ ,” Tony said. “Pretty sure you can still see the welts.”

Bucky shrugged. “Well, we can fix that part, at least.” He came back over and held up the wide two-sided paddle -- Tony recognized it from the last time. “Won’t be able to see a welt if your whole ass is red.” He turned the paddle, the textured side, and teased it over Tony’s ass, light and prickly.

Tony whimpered and felt his stomach clench. He tried not to clench his ass, but his ass had other ideas.

“There we go,” Bucky said. “Just relax.” He flipped the paddle mid air and struck. Not nearly as stinging, the impact jolted through him. It took a second for the pain to actually register, then dull heat spread from the point of impact, much wider than the actual paddle was.

Tony’s breath caught, and then sighed out again. The broader, less sharp pain was almost comforting after the strap. “Another, sir?”

“Six,” Bucky agreed, and struck the other side with a sharp movement of wrist and shoulder. The seventh blow came right down on the crease between his ass and his thigh, both sides at once, and jolted up through his balls. He had a brief second to be grateful that Bucky’d closed his legs for that part of the session when Bucky swung again, _same damn spot_.

He arched up involuntarily, and yelped when the arrangement of ropes dropped his arms back and tugged at the harness around his dick. The heat that spread across his ass was a lot stronger now, and he was gulping air instead of breathing it. More, he needed just a _little_ more... “Sir, please...”

Bucky made another one of those thoughtful noises, turned the paddle again and ran the rough side up and down Tony’s thighs and ass, brisk this time, turning an irritating sensation razor-sharp, like a hundred fingernails at once. “Three more, honey. You want this again, or the flogger?”

Oh, shit, the _flogger_ was _terrible_ , a dozen little stinging flicks all at once, it would set him on _fire_... “That,” he gasped. “The. The flogger. I want... Please.”

“Good boy,” Bucky said. He patted Tony’s ass fondly, barely a touch, but oh, Tony was already sore, and-- Bucky leaned down, kissed each butt cheek. “Very nice. Delicious.” His tongue flicked out and tasted the heated skin. “You’re gonna get just what you deserve, aren’t you?”

“Yes sir,” Tony agreed breathlessly. “Whatever you want, that’s what I deserve.”

Bucky stepped back, put the paddle down and picked up the flogger, a brilliant array of silver and black strands. “It’s pretty, don’t you think?” Bucky leaned on Tony’s upstretched legs, pushing until Tony was bent further, which pulled at the swollen, painful skin. He let the loose ends dangle, until the edges were brushing back and forth over Tony’s cock, twitching it like a feather-duster.

Tony squirmed helplessly at the sensation, too light and yet too much and so, so needed. His bells jingled happily and his nipples hurt and the room was so bright, Bucky’s eyes so wide and pretty... “Please,” Tony whimpered. “Sir, Bucky, please.”

Bucky kept teasing him with the ends, as if he’d never seen anything quite so wonderful as Tony squirming and whining. “Five more, was it?” The leather danced along over his aching prick, along his belly, up over his nipples, and back down. “Was it five? I’m pretty sure it was.” Up and down and over, teasing sensation out of Tony, making him writhe with it, wanting more.

That wasn’t right, was it? Tony had all but lost track again, his body burning with need, with the heat that Bucky was giving him. Tony moaned. “You...” Could he even _take_ five more, especially with the flogger? He shook his head hard enough to jangle the bells. “Three, sir. Please.”

Bucky laughed, not sensual, but honestly amused. “Five is right out,” he said, voice doing a rough British impression.

“One,” and Bucky paused just long enough for Tony to clench up again, he didn’t mean to, he didn’t want to, but oh, god, Bucky was drawing out the anticipation, and even with that, the blow took him almost completely by surprise, a dozen stinging biting little jolts, like fucking meat tenderizer on his ass.

It was _agony_. It was _bliss_. “One,” Tony agreed. A tear tracked down his face, and when had _that_ started? He didn’t remember, but the cool wake of its path felt good, a quiet counterpoint to the fire in his ass and thighs.

“Two.” That time, no hesitation, Bucky swung, striking the other side, catching most of the left side of Tony’s ass and half his hip with those wasp-stings. “God, you're beautiful, baby.”

A sob broke out of Tony’s throat as he tried to echo the “Two.” His hips rocked and his cock ached inside its rope cage. “Two,” he tried again.

“Keep your legs together,” Bucky warned, and when Tony pressed his thighs tight, Buck gave him the last one, a downstroke that bit into both thighs and danced along the crease of his buttcheeks.

He _screamed_ at the pain, his body arching and jerking in its bonds as if some other thing controlled it. Certainly _he_ wasn’t at the reins anymore, not with that... that _fire_ under his skin, driving him out of his mind until he couldn’t even _think_ of anything but the pain. “Sir! Oh, sir, please, thank you, please...”

“You’re so welcome, baby,” Bucky said, soft and soothing and reassuring. “You were so good for me, so good. The best. I’m so pleased with you, honey. Gonna let you loose now. Want you to roll over on your right hip, okay? An’ then you can choose, you want me to fuck you on your knees, or do you have enough strength t’ ride me? I don’t want t’ rub on your bruises right away.”

Bucky tugged at the rope for just a moment, tightening the knotted cage around Tony’s dick, and then, his legs came down, slowly. Bucky got an arm under him and helped him turn, pulling him up a bit until all of him was on the bed, even the softest sheets under him stinging at his abused ass until he got over on his hip like Bucky wanted him.

Tony sighed at the relative moment of relief and let himself fuzz into semi-consciousness while Bucky untied all the ropes. He wanted Bucky to come closer, to wrap around him, to feel Bucky’s warmth over him and filling him-- He groaned a little as Bucky moved him to slide rope out from under him, then looked up into those pretty grey-blue eyes. “Knees.”

“All right, baby,” Bucky said. Somewhere in there, Tony wasn’t sure, Bucky had stripped off his clothes. “God, you’re so gorgeous. You’re still good? I want… _I_ want to fuck you, want to feel you, but I don’t want to hurt you anymore, tonight. That part’s done, okay? You did good, now it’s time for your reward.”

Tony nodded easily. “Want you,” he managed. “Please.” He tried to roll up onto his knees, and was startled to realize his hand was shaking. He flapped it a little, shaking it out, and tried again.

Bucky helped him, gentle, so gentle. Stacked some pillows up for him to lean over. “Better?” He waited for Tony’s nod, then shifted. He got the lube and started working Tony open, slow and careful, and even as careful as he was, little movements stung and sizzled up Tony’s skin, like sparks from a forge. Tony was always chasing faster, harder, more, but this time, this time he was so weary, he lay with his arms crossed on the pillows, head resting on the cradle of his arms, and just lay there, shifting a little as something twinged or ached, as Bucky worked him open, fucked Tony with his fingers.

So easy and soft and relentless that it took Tony a while to realize he was rocking with every thrust, aching for it.

He felt like waking up from a good, long sleep, drowsy but refreshed and alert at the same time. His skin felt tight and hot but the pain sparked through him like the beginnings of an orgasm. “Bucky,” he groaned. “Fuck me, please.”’

“I gotcha, baby,” Bucky said. The bed shifted a little and then there was a flare of white heat as Bucky put his hand on Tony’s ass. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, baby, just let me…” A moment later, Bucky’s cock pressed against Tony’s opening, and he shifted his hands to brace on the headboard. He rocked his hips, a little at a time, each achingly slow thrust going a little deeper, a little longer, before Bucky would pull back, dragging his cock out of Tony. Almost all the way, then pushed in again, until he was in to the hilt. “God, baby, you’re so perfect, I…”

Bucky’s hips pressing against Tony’s ass made it sting and flare. Tony pushed back into it, as much as he could, chasing the sensation. “Love you,” he said, “love you, love _this_. Just right, we got it just, exactly right.” He hadn’t been sure about the ropes, but they’d felt so _good_. And he hadn’t screwed it up again. And Bucky was _perfect_.

Bucky leaned further over him, switching to pushing against the headboard with the metal hand, fingers biting into the wood. He reached around with the other, stroking Tony’s cock once, twice. Ran a tender hand up Tony’s chest to tug at the bells that were still sometimes ringing with their soft clangs as they moved, and sometimes muffled against the pillows. “Oh, god, Tony…” Bucky’s breath was hot on Tony’s spine. “You’re so sweet, I…”

Back down again and Bucky was, despite his best efforts, actually pressing on the bruises, but Tony couldn’t care, because Bucky’s hand was back on his cock, stroking him in time with Bucky’s thrusts, twisting a little as he got to the top, finger teasing a ring around the ridge before stroking again. “I love you,” Bucky said. “Wanna feel you comin’ for me, can you do that, baby, can you?”

“Want to,” Tony said. That fire had been banked before, subsumed by the pain, but as soon as he thought about it, it seemed every bit of the heat from his ass was drawn inward toward his cock, making it throb desperately with need. “Oh, god, Bucky, I...” Bucky’s hand twisted again and Tony thrust forward into the touch, gasping as the world exploded into multicolored light behind his eyes.

“There you go, oh, baby, so good.” Bucky was gasping, each exhale a soft moan, until he thrust, snapping his hips several times in a row, his thighs banging harshly against Tony’s abused rump, and then, he groaned, low and loud. “Yeah, baby, I…” His cock jerked inside Tony, rubbing over his prostate, shoving another bolt of almost pure pleasure through Tony.

A moment later, there was nothing against Tony’s skin but cool air. He hesitated, still feeling slow and drowsy, and looked over his shoulder. “Bucky?”

“Yeah, I’m here, baby,” Bucky said, coming back to the bed with a soft, wet cloth and a bottle of medicated lotion. He hissed, looking down at Tony’s ass. “Wow. You sure you’re okay, baby? That looks--” Bucky was gently wiping sweat and lube and come off Tony’s legs. He folded the cloth and laid the clean side over half of Tony’s ass. “This should help some, s’got topical lidocaine in it, an’ aloe.”

Tony nodded and pulled a pillow closer. “Feels good. Now. Probably bitch a lot tomorrow.” He twisted to grin at Bucky. “You have to be nice to me.”

“Anything you want,” Bucky promised. He squirted a dollop of the gel directly onto Tony’s ass, which was cold, and for a second, really exquisitely painful, enough to draw a whimper out of Tony’s throat, and then Bucky started smoothing it in, blowing cool puffs of air as he did, which helped take out the sting.

“Did you... like it?” Tony asked, partly to distract himself from the sting, and partly because he needed to know. “I mean, you were _amazing_ , it’s like you were _born_ for it, but did it do anything for you?”

“Mission oriented,” Bucky said. “Wasn't born like that, but trained to it.” Bucky glanced at him. “Ain't a bad thing, don't think that, baby. Lotta what happened was carrot an’ stick, you know? Successful mission is still a major reward. An’ I get t’ have the most mind blowing sex ever? Win fucking win.”

That was a relief. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that Bucky would do a _lot_ of things that he didn’t really care for, just to make Tony happy. It was a little disconcerting, sometimes. But Bucky didn’t lie, not to Tony. Not about _them_. So if he said he’d liked it, then he’d liked it. Which was great, because Tony definitely wanted to do it again sometime. ...After his ass had healed.

“Next time,” Tony said, pausing to hiss a little as Bucky rubbed the gel into a particularly sore spot. “Next time, you want to switch it up a little?”

“Baby, I can't _wait_ to see what you got planned when it's my turn.” When Tony craned his neck to see Bucky's face, he was grinning, sharp and feral. _Eager_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [bridle strap](https://www.etsy.com/listing/255252519/).


	5. 3 - Public Scene (sub!Bucky)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: BDSM, discussions of kink, safewords, safeword use, risk aware consensual kink, public Dom/sub, dungeon, st. andrews cross, whipping, electric play, wax play, hard no, panic attack, sub drop

“Hey babe,” Bucky said, draping himself over Tony’s shoulder, tucking his chin against Tony’s neck. “Got somethin’ for you.”

“Is it bigger than a breadbox?” Tony asked, leaning back to claim a kiss.

Bucky lost the thread for a moment, kissing back with abandon until he reached around to touch Tony’s face and almost poked him in the eye with the card he had in the other hand. “Oops,” he said, grinning against Tony’s lips. “Here.” He put the card down on Tony’s desk. Fancy, expensive paper, a black and gold wax seal holding it shut, imprinted with the club’s logo, a crop crossed with a key. After some research, Bucky’d turned up this place: Threshhold. A high-end, exclusive, invitation-only S&M club. It hadn’t been hard to secure the invite; once Bucky’s credentials were established, the Domme was not just willing, but downright eager to have Tony Stark in her club.

Tony picked up the card and turned it over in his hand, feeling the print and the paper with his sensitive fingertips. He broke the seal and looked at the invitation, then looked at Bucky with raised eyebrows. “Really?”

Bucky shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, why not? Mistress Gemini said she’d be delighted to see you back in the scene. An’ said they were good with all levels of experience, so th’ fact that I ain’t been doin’ this too long shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Is this something you want to do?” Tony asked pointedly. That was fair; Tony had ranked Exhibitionism high, but it wasn’t one of Bucky’s top-ranked kinks.

Bucky pondered the idea of sticking his tongue in Tony’s ear, just to be an ass, but kissed the side of his neck instead. “ _You_ want to,” he purred. “An’ I thought it might be fun t’ see it as a scene, you know? Get some new ideas, enjoy an evening out together. An’ there’s no sense tryin’ to be discreet about it. Even with masks, I ain’t exactly hard to pick out of a line up. Thought you might wanna put a leash on me and show everyone exactly what -- an’ who -- you got. See how good I c’n be for you, baby? Know you like that, saw th’ way you looked when we ended up in the papers together the first time. You like people _knowin_ ’.”

Tony’s mouth twitched. “Don’t tell me you don’t know why,” he said, “as much as you like marking me.” He traced a finger over the invitation’s printing. “We’ll have to get you some pretty new gear to wear,” he said thoughtfully.

Bucky shivered. The first time they’d tried that, Bucky’d been terrified that he was going to throw back to Winter Soldier’s programming -- or worse, rebel violently against it -- but he’d found Tony treated him like a special creature, not a tool. It’d been… nice, at first. And then it had gotten deeper, somehow. Under his skin to where when the collar came out, Bucky’s desire was to please Tony, and the shame he felt when he couldn’t or didn’t, that was worse than any punishment. Bucky already knew he’d go through fire for the man, but the formality of the situation was… sublime.

He could kneel at Tony’s feet for as long as Tony wanted him there.

And a small part of him, that was getting more and more urgent, wanted other people to see him there. Not their friends, he wasn’t ready for _that_. But people who already knew the grace and freedom of submission. They could know. They could look. He was proud of Tony, proud to belong to him. And he wanted to show it off.

***

There was nothing submissive in Bucky’s natural walk; all stalking predator and unstoppable determination. They’d had to practice.

“Much as I love the murder strut, honeymuffin,” Sir had said, “you’re not going to a club to scare the locals.”

So they’d practiced with Bucky on the leash, a few steps behind, the perfect dip in the chain to indicate that Bucky was property, but there because he wanted to be. Sir was just as egotistical in his color choices as Bucky was, putting Bucky in red and gold, so that was fair.

The collar wasn’t standard at all. Fabricated from the same material as Iron Man’s suits, it locked in place with Sir’s thumbprint. Every time Bucky swallowed, he could feel the comforting press of the plush-lined metal. The leash was magnetic, with a chain of gold. The handle that Sir let dangle, almost carelessly, from one hand was wrapped in matching red leather.

Sir was dressed to the nines, as he always was, in a sharp, tailored suit and his crazy matching sunglasses that should not have worked, and yet, they always did.

Bucky… was wearing significantly less. Custom made red leather chest harness, with his chest bare and his metal arm on full display. Black vinyl short shorts that could be removed via zippers up the sides. A number of straps fastened around his leg, because Sir apparently had a thing for buckles. And tight fitting, calf-high polished red boots with two inches of black platform, because Bucky apparently wasn’t tall enough already.

He kept his eyes downcast, watching Sir’s hand intently as they entered the club. They’d worked out a number of hand signals for where Sir wanted him, and in what position. Heeling, or sitting cross-legged on the floor, or on his knees in front of Sir.

 _Whatever_ Sir wanted.

Bucky’d given over all his free will to Sir for the night. Even if what Sir wanted was someone else to play with Sir’s property, Bucky would do that, so Sir could watch, could appreciate the value of what he’d won.

They paused just inside the door so that Sir could greet the hostess and present their credentials. The hostess welcomed them warmly and explained the rules of the floor and the planned entertainment. Before following the sound of crowds into the main club space, Sir turned to look at Bucky directly, a hand under his chin to briefly lift his eyes. “Check in, gorgeous. You’re still good to go?”

Bucky used the opportunity to flick his eyes from one side of the room to the other. People were already staring, some with appreciative looks, others with narrow gazes, and a few with acquisitive interest. A shiver of embarrassment slithered through his belly, an awareness of just how vulnerable and naked he was. It added something to the coiling want already there. A dash of too-hot pepper. He met Sir’s eyes. “Yes, green, Sir.” He paused, let his mouth curl up into the particular smile that Sir loved so much, sweet and eager to please. “Want people to see what a good master I have.”

“Sweet boy,” Sir praised, stretching up to catch Bucky’s lips in a short kiss. “I know you’ll show them all how good you are. We’ll be the envy of the evening, hm?” He released Bucky’s chin and led Bucky out into the room.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but the main room was not it; dim lighting, tables with a few chairs scattered around them. If it wasn’t for the submissives, kneeling or standing attentively behind their doms at some of the stations, the decor could easily have been mistaken for a posh, upper class restaurant. A few subs wandered the floor with drink trays, apparently employees. The rules of the club were clear; the employees could grant or refuse touch or pain privileges to any of the clients. One of the women had apparently given out blanket permission; she went from one table to the next, collecting slaps on her ass or across her face like she was gathering flowers. Her cheeks were as red as her ass, and both were spectacular.

A few hallways and staircases led off from the main room, with little slates in front of them, indicating what torments lay beyond them. Bucky didn’t even have to squint to read them, although Sir might not be able to see so far. Wax art. St. Andrews Cross rooms. Cage. Whipping post. Bucky took a step to stay at Sir’s required distance.

Sir didn’t head for any of the more private rooms or areas, but instead for an empty table near the middle of the main room. He took a seat and motioned for Bucky to kneel beside him. His hand stroked idly through Bucky’s hair as he told a passing employee to fetch him a drink. Sir’s leg stretched out in easy arrogance, not only comfortable but pleased with the eyes on them.

The floor was covered in a luxuriously plush carpet that was surprisingly clean. Bucky appreciated that, dropping onto his heels, hands at the small of his back, eyes down. He leaned into Sir’s touch, enough to encourage him to continue. It didn’t take Bucky long to realize that Sir had positioned him so that his metal arm faced outward, showing it off instead of trying to hide it.

People were staring. Whispers spread. One of the subs bowed to her dom and trotted off down one of the hallways, where she busied herself spreading the gossip. The crowd in the room grew as people abandoned their scenes to gawk.

He’d known, he’d known that was going to happen. His thighs quivered, bones feeling weak and watery. He didn’t have anything else to do, Sir hadn’t given him a task, and he couldn’t help but _hear_ , even if he didn’t want to.

One woman, wearing a long green dress and leading two subs, as alike as twins, made a snide, nasty comment about Sir, and Bucky’s eyes snapped up, staring at her from across the room. He barely managed to strangle the snarl before it came out of his throat.

“They’re not important,” Sir said. “Whatever they said, it doesn’t matter.” His hand slipped through Bucky’s hair again. “People talk; that’s what they do. What matters, gingersnap?”

“You do, sir,” Bucky said, dropping his gaze and trying to unclench his fists. “Just you. You’re the only one who needs to be happy. Forgive me.” He inched closer, letting his knee touch Sir’s calf.

“That’s right,” Sir agreed. “Forget them. They don’t matter. They’re just jealous that I have you, and no one else does.” He petted Bucky’s hair some more, tugging gently until Bucky’s head rested against his knee. “Ah, there, I see the waves of rumor have finished their outward circle and are now bouncing back in. Would you like to go exploring with me, darling?”

Bucky noticed a few of the other club goers angling to get closer, either to ask questions or get a better look. Cameras were strictly prohibited; no cell phones allowed. But a few of the younger Doms and Dommes were daring each other to go up and ask.

“I should love to, sir,” Bucky said. They couldn’t dodge questions all night, although it was Sir’s will if they even were answered. But Bucky was getting nervous, particularly of the ones who wanted to touch him, see what the arm felt like. The servos whirred nervously under alloyed skin. He needed something to concentrate on, or he was going to shame Sir.

Just that thought helped calm him. He would not make Sir ashamed to have an ill-behaved sub.

He put one hand on the floor, preparing to rise as soon as Sir was ready.

Sir stood and faced the row of halls. “What do you think, sugarcube -- do you want to watch a demonstration, or provide one?” He pointed toward the Wax Art and St. Andrews Cross rooms. It was an offering, Bucky knew, Sir’s way of checking in without seeming to.

Wax could be pretty; he’d seen some elaborate patterns made. His back itched, right between his shoulder blades. Nerves high, he thought. Need _something_. He swallowed, feeling the pressure of Sir’s collar around his neck. “Let them watch, sir,” he suggested. Sir could whip him, easily enough. The lash mark would sting and ache, then fade, but it would move the nerves from inside to outside, and they’d fade, just like bruises.

“Good boy,” Sir said. He strode toward the Cross halls, looking for one with an open spot. “Ah, here we are.” He brushed past the woman in green as if he couldn’t even see her. “This looks cozy. You want to climb up for me while I see what kind of hardware is available?” That was another offering, a choice of positions, letting Bucky decide how difficult to make it.

The stand pegs fit exactly in the curve of his boots. He pondered a moment, then decided he didn’t want to face the people watching him. It was enough that Sir’s eyes were on him, enough that Sir’s hand was on him. He hesitated again, fingers twitching toward the zippers on his shorts; he wore a leather thong underneath, offering Sir full access to his ass without displaying his cock, unless Sir wanted him to strip further. He decided against it. Sir could take it off, if he wanted.

Bucky reached up for the highest set of lock pegs, stretching out, spread eagle, shoulders flexing. Someone, he didn’t know who, wolf-whistled at that display of musculature.

Sir sniffed his opinion of that crude response, but his hand trailed covetously over Bucky’s shoulders and back. “You’re the most beautiful thing in here,” he murmured. “Club furniture probably isn’t up to my standard, though, so I’m counting on you not to break it, sweetpea, got that?”

Bucky allowed himself a smile; Sir couldn’t see from that angle, anyway. “No bustin’ up the joint, got it, Sir.” He was earning himself another few strokes, for being cheeky, but that was okay. He might need them.

“Brat,” Sir said, without heat. “Indeed. I’m going to start with a lash straight off. Tell me your color.”

“Green, Sir,” Bucky said. It wasn’t entirely true, but the _reason_ he was bordering on yellow was why he needed the lash, so he guessed it counted. He was going to get what he needed, even if they weren’t quite there yet.

“Good boy.” Sir stepped back from the cross, and Bucky could hear him removing his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves. Then came the swish of the lash behind him, a practice swing, close enough he could feel the air moving. “Don’t worry about keeping count,” Sir said. “I want to see if we can get you to stay marked for more than a minute at a time.” He didn’t hesitate after that: another swish, and the tail made contact with his back, just under a harness strap, a sharp sting that started out red and then flared into white.

Bucky grunted at the impact; a full whip then, and not the quirts they’d practiced with. A bullwhip took a practiced hand, but the force behind the blow was at least five times stronger, a matter of applied leverage. Bucky hissed, let his heels drop and tried to relax into it. The pain was brilliant and the world snapped into focus around him as it faded.

Sir swung again, a fresh lance of pain just beside the first. Sir obviously hadn’t gotten out of practice, or had taken some pains to get back into practice for this outing. The pain was grounding and bright, and before it even fully materialized, the whip was singing again.

Behind them, voices murmured. They didn’t matter.

Bucky’s healing capabilities were impressive, but the stripes were placed quickly enough along that narrow strip that even his body couldn’t keep up. A dozen blows and he was panting for breath. By thirty, he was whining rhythmically.

Around fifty -- maybe, he didn’t know for sure, though Sir would know. Sir always knew -- Bucky broke, screaming. The pain was like a brand, hot and unrelenting. Everything in the world had gone away aside from molten pain in his back and Sir’s voice in his ear. Nothing else even existed. It was… _wonderful_. Bucky let his head hang down, sweaty hair sticking to the side of his face. Rode the adrenaline high until it forced a bark of harsh laughter out of his throat.

Wondering how much he could take before he _begged_ for it to stop.

Sir laid down another dozen stripes, each one ripping a scream from his throat, each feeling like he was being flayed. Then it stopped, and Sir was close again, breath spilling warm over his skin. “You’re so good, so _perfect_ , look at you, sweetheart, just _look_ at this, you’re _amazing_.” Hands on Bucky’s shoulders, skirting the area of pain but touching everywhere else. Sir ducked around the Cross to catch Bucky’s eye. “Oh, look at those eyes. Are you floating, sweetheart?”

Bucky managed a nod, then licked at his lips. “Salt,” he said, roughly. “‘F you want th’ mark to last. Salt it. Sir.”

Sir looked at him for a moment, judging, then touched his face. “Color for me, darling?”

“Green sir,” Bucky said, meaning it. So perfect, the rush of hormones, the fuzzy, faded way everything else blurred away. The strong grip of Sir’s hand, keep him centered and anchored. “Green.”

“Thank you,” Sir said. He kissed Bucky’s cheek, and then was behind him again. There was some shuffling in the crowd, and then Sir was close. “Salt,” he said, just loud enough that the crowd could hear it. “Because this is something special.” And then his hand was pressing over the lashmarks, not much pressure but--

Bucky threw his head back with the force of his scream, all the strength going out of his legs until he was upright by the thinnest of margins and his grip on the Cross. It was like a burn, like boiling oil over his skin. Instead of easing after a moment, it grew and spread, searing him to the bone. Oh, it hurt, _it hurt_. Sweat prickled on his skin, ran down his back and oh, fuck, that was terrible, worse. He was whimpering.

He wanted Sir, wanted Sir’s hand on him, comforting and protective. Needed to see Sir’s face, remember why he’d agreed to this, knowing for whom he was suffering. He managed a few, shaky breaths, hitched on a sob and lost control again.

It was purifying. Burning his sins clear. He was sobbing, clinging to the Cross with both hands.

The pain didn’t fade, didn’t even waver, but his tolerance for it got higher. A moment, or two, and he was able to push back from the Cross, take stock of the situation again.

“So beautiful,” Sir said, closer than Bucky had thought he was. “That was the most gorgeous thing, _you’re_ the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. Here, honey, you want some water?” Sir was holding a bottle, beaded with condensation. His eyes, his smile, were proud and full of concern.

“Please,” his voice came out in a harsh whisper. There was no way he could drink and not fall. He stepped back, down off the Cross and went all the way down, knees on the floor, then hands, and forehead, until he was curled up at Sir’s feet. He was good. He was so good. He was making Sir proud, the envy of the evening. He could hear the whispers, the admiration and disbelief. Sir deserved it.

The bottle of water appeared in his peripheral vision, reminding him how dry his mouth was, how sore his throat was. He took it, sitting back on his heels to drink. Sir had opened it for him, which was good. Bucky wasn’t sure he had enough presence of mind at the moment to remember how.

“That’s right, that’s good,” Sir purred as he drank. “So good, you’ve been so very good for me, you’ve been _perfect_ , taking every single thing. I’m lucky to have you.” He was petting Bucky’s hair again, gently tugging out the tangles. “You deserve the biggest reward for tonight, darling. But now, right now, tell me what you need.”

Bucky arched into Sir’s touch, stropping up against him, rubbing his cheek against Sir’s leg, shameless as a cat. “Watch a demo, sir?” Bucky did want to see, after all, more than just what he could endure. Wanted to see what interested Sir, what things they might try, later. “An’--” he licked his lips again “--something sweet? Orange slices, maybe?” He wasn’t quite hungry, _exactly_ , but he knew his metabolism. He’d start burning calories to heal soon enough.

“Absolutely,” Sir said. “Can you stand up, or would you like me to bring you something here?”

Well, that was a question, wasn’t it? Bucky pushed himself up, got to his feet and swayed dangerously. Someone else, someone not Sir, reached for him, maybe to steady him, but Bucky reacted badly, staggering a step back, falling out of where he was supposed to be in relation to Sir, hands coming up defensively. “No,” he said, shifted and getting back where he was supposed to be standing. “No one touches me but Sir without… permission.”

“You’re all right,” Sir soothed. “Come on, lean on me, and we’ll get you some snacks and see what else is going on.” He made a shooing motion at the crowd. “All done here, go on about your business.” Some of the crowd dispersed, but Sir gestured at one of the employees and ordered a plate of treats, oranges and chocolates and things Sir could feed to him.

“Sorry, Sir,” Bucky murmured. “She startled me. Sorry.” He didn’t want Sir to be disappointed in him. A few bites and he’d feel better, he knew it. Sir took a seat and Bucky went back to his knees so that Sir could feed him, a bite at a time, chased with more cold water that felt good on his abused throat. It was good. He was good. Settling into a pleased, almost happy semi-doze, moving only as much as eating required, his head against Sir’s knee while he rested.

This was good. This was a good idea. Bucky was happy. Sir was happy. It was good.

After the plate was emptied, and Bucky had recovered a little of his energy and equilibrium, Sir stood again, and they went to watch the demonstrations in the other rooms.

Wax art was something they hadn’t done before, but might consider. The sub in that room gasped and quivered so beautifully when his Mistress drizzled the melted wax over his skin. And when she peeled the cooled wax up, the red marks it left behind were intriguing. “What do you think, buttercup?” Sir asked softly, watching Bucky as much as the display itself. “Should we invest in a candle set?”

“It’s pretty,” Bucky offered. He wasn’t sure the marks would last long enough on his stupid juiced-up skin, but it might be fun to play with Sir. Or a heavy dyed wax might linger on Bucky’s own skin long enough for stunning visuals. It was worth considering. Bucky nodded. Besides, he’d liked watching the man’s eyes, the way he couldn’t seem to look away from the dancing flame.

“Something to consider, anyway,” Sir said idly. They watched a moment or two longer, then turned in search of something new.

He was still turning the thought over in his mind, kept going back to the man’s eyes, watching the candle. He’d love to see Sir like that. He wrinkled his nose at a faint trace of… something? Ozone? Lingering in the corridor.

A few rooms down, someone squealed and shrieked, eliciting a chorus of laughter. The sub who’d made the sound was whimpering, begging, sweet and frantic.

“That sounds interesting,” Sir said, mouth curving. “Let’s go see what’s happening in there, hm?” He led the way down the corridor. The odd smell was stronger here, and then Sir stepped into a scene of horror.

The sub was strapped to a flat table with leather ties. Her master stood over her with a long wand, plugged into the wall behind him. It was... humming. Softly. Just audible for Bucky’s enhanced hearing, but it was a sound he _knew_.

Bucky froze. Unable to move, unable to back away. Watched, helpless, horrified, as her Dom touched her with the wand. Electricity crackled out of the end, forcing all her muscles to contract painfully. The lines in her throat stood out as she screamed breathlessly.

… _white sizzle across his temples, the bitter taste of rubber in his mouth… he didn’t fight them, there was no point in fighting, but… everything was spinning and whirling around… his muscles spasmed and spasmed again..._

He took the wand away and the woman collapsed to the table, gasping for air. One of the demo’s participants held up a silver rod, coated with conductive gel.

The smell of ozone was overwhelming. He couldn’t move.

The Dom’s assistant pulled aside the woman’s underwear and slid the rod a few inches into her pussy. She was quivering with fearful anticipation.

Oh, god. Bucky was going to be sick. They were going to shock her… _there_?

“Oh, oh, god,” Bucky managed to say. “No, no, no, nononononono.” He was reduced to panicked babbling, his muscles not obeying any of his commands.

… _are you ready to comply..._

“Bucky?” Sir said. “Shit. Bucky. Look at me, honey, can you look at me right now?”

He tried, he really did, but even though he tipped his head in the right direction, he couldn’t stop watching, distressed and eerily fascinated and utterly repulsed all at the same time. “Sir? Sir, we need to--”

The wand touched the rod and--

Bucky managed to tear his gaze away, but there was nothing he could do about the sounds. The crackle of electricity, the screaming, the juddering sound of her heart. Every time the current popped, he jerked back until his back was against the wall, heedless of the pain racing up the whip marks. “Red red red redred, I need to go, I need to go, I need to go _now_.”

“Yeah, we’re going. Come on, I’ve got you.” Sir’s arm around his waist, pulling him gently away from the room, from that smell, the screams chasing him like nightmares. The subdued chatter of the main floor, too much, still too much. Air, fresh air, then, and they were outside, in the little garden that shielded the club entrance from the eyes of casual passersby. “Bucky, sweetheart. Look at me, I’m right here, I’ve got you. Talk to me, honey. Tell me you’re with me, here.”

Bucky took giant gulps of air, trying to clear his lungs. “Oh, Christ…” he said. “I can’t, I can’t… oh, God, Tony…” He reached out, trying to find Tony’s hand, got hold of his wrist and pulled him in, hiding his face against Tony’s stomach.

Tony’s hand was in his hair, on his back, gently stroking. “I’m right here, honey. You don’t have to do anything at all right now, just breathe for me. Can you do that? Breathe with me, like this.” The whooshing of air through Tony’s lungs, loud under Bucky’s ear. “And out...”

He managed to push back a little, look up at Tony, and it was a surprise -- a _shock_ , his brain pointed out, unhelpfully -- that he _recognized_ Tony. That smell, those sounds, they… went with losing _everything_. Again. And all he’d be left with was a vague sense of loss and a ringing headache.

Headache. Check.

But he knew Tony. He knew himself. This place.

The relief was almost more unmanning than the panic had been in the first place.

 _Fuck_. He knew people did _that_ \-- his mind shied away from even thinking the word -- for fun. Madam Gemini wouldn’t allow anything in her club that wasn’t consensual. He didn’t like the idea, couldn’t stand the thought of submitting to it, or making someone else submit to it, but… he didn’t know, hadn’t thought it would throw him so badly.

He stared up at Tony, lost in the marvel of remembering him. “I know you,” he said. “I know your face.” Like it was the only thing that mattered in the whole world.

“Good,” Tony said, serious. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think to check the plate on the door when I went in, and I-- I’m sorry. Are you okay? Catch your breath, and I’ll have them bring the car around.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I’m… I’ll be all right. Jus’... take me home, please?”

“Absolutely, anything you want, sweetheart. Anything at all.”

The car rolled up not terribly long after, but Bucky was already shivering with cold. He was cold, cryo-cold, and none of his muscles wanted to work correctly. Tony had to prop up under him to get him moving at all, and really, all Bucky wanted to do was find someplace safe to curl up, hide. Someplace where he wasn’t so utterly vulnerable.

He was definitely not imagining the disapproving scowl on Happy’s face when Tony bundled Bucky into the back of the car.

The collar felt tight, too tight. Strangling him, not a comfort.

He’d…

Safe -- well, saf _er_ \-- in the back of the car, Bucky found himself curled up in the footwell, unable to even bear the formality of a seatbelt around his waist, his head against Sir’s knee. Whimpering.

Sir’s fingers threaded through his hair, petting. “It’s okay, honey, you’re all right. You’re with me, I won’t let anything happen.” He sounded... off. Distracted? Upset?

Disappointed.

Bucky kept his eyes closed against the wave of shame, humiliation, that swept over him.

Closing his eyes didn’t help; even in the midst of his panic, he’d seen… seen the way other Doms looked at him. Had looked at Sir.

He’d been _bad_. Embarrassed Sir.

_Publically._

He was shivering harder, the plates in his arm ratcheting violently with his tremors. He wanted to cling tighter to Sir, to hide his face, to never, ever let anyone see him. He jerked back, trying to get his arm clear. The last thing he wanted to do, after behaving _abominably_ , was to tear Sir’s pants, or worse, his skin.

“Whoa, hey, what’s--” Sir caught his chin in one hand, so gently. “What’s going on, sweetheart? Can you look at me? Are you cold?” Something draped over Bucky’s shoulders, something warm. Sir’s suit jacket, still radiating body heat. “Bucky, honey, look at me, please.”

He was cold, cold was… cold was an acceptable answer. Cold was logical. There was nothing wrong with being cold after--

After disappointing Sir.

Bucky shook his head. Too hard. His hair swung around his face, sticking to his cheeks. He didn’t deserve to be babied. “‘M fine,” he managed to say, and he knew it was a lie when he said it, could taste it, but he didn’t know… he didn’t know how to explain, and Sir didn’t… didn’t want to hear it anyway.

Bucky sank lower on the floor. His back stung and throbbed, the muscles in his shoulders ached, his arm hurt. Head ached and his neck felt… twisted. He pulled his legs toward his chest until no part of him was touching Sir. Still close, Sir would know… would know something…

It was really hard to think and Bucky couldn’t make sense of any of it anyway. He closed his eyes.

Sir tapped on the partition glass and spoke to Happy, and a moment later a blast of warm air came from the vents on the floor. “There, hopefully that will help some. Honey, can you hear me? You’re dropping hard and fast, sweetheart, I need to... Can I touch you? Is that all right?”

Bucky’s mouth felt sticky, dry. He licked his lips, felt the rasp against his tongue. “I can hear you, Sir.” That was the soft ball question. There was something else Sir had wanted, what was it? Bucky tried to punch through the fog in his brain to get to it. Touch? Why would Sir want to touch him? He’d done it all wrong. His eyes stung, but he managed a nod. He couldn’t ask, it would be wrong to ask Sir for comfort, after Bucky had been such a disappointment.

“Thank you, sweetheart, that’s perfect.” There was a soft rustle, and Sir was on the floor as well, sitting next to him. Sir’s hand was on his arm, his shoulder, his back, rubbing gently. “That’s so good. I know things went a little sideways on us there, but you were so good, so beautiful, and I’m so proud of you.” Sir kept rubbing soft, easy circles on Bucky’s back. “It wasn’t your fault, what happened. That was... it wasn’t your fault, and I’m sorry it interrupted our evening, but I’m still going to take care of you now, if you’ll let me. I’d like to. Okay?”

There was something he wanted to say. He made a soft whine, frustrated. “I… uh…” His eyes darted around the car, to the empty seat, Sir’s coat hanging loose over Bucky’s shoulders. His own bare knees. Finally, he managed to jerk his gaze upward; he needed to say it, and all the shame in the world shouldn’t keep him from showing his face while he said it. “I’m sorry,” he said. His eyes burned, itchy, and then tears welled up, and once they started, he didn’t know how to stop them. He let them fall, kept his eyes on Sir. Waiting. For what, he wasn’t sure. To be told to go, that Sir was done with him, or to be reprimanded, or even worse, maybe. Coddled like a child who couldn’t handle it, who had too much asked of him.

Sir frowned a little. “It’s not...” He shook his head. “What are you sorry for, sweetheart? I don’t think you did anything wrong.”

His mouth worked, and for a long moment, he couldn’t force anything out. He swallowed, tried again. “Shamed you.” Bucky wanted to crawl under something and die. It would be easier than… disappointing Sir.

“You didn’t,” Sir said. “You made me proud and happy. Yes, even at the end, because you used your word just like you’re supposed to, that makes me so proud. I love you so much, you make me so happy, and I’m sorry that happened, but you absolutely did not shame me. Very much the opposite.” His hand detoured from its idle circling to cup the back of Bucky’s neck. “I know it feels awful now, I’ve been there, but you’re _perfect_.”

“No?” Sir said he was good, and Sir couldn’t be wrong. That wasn’t how it worked, was it? Sir knew what he wanted, and if… if Sir said so. He kept his chin up, looking for the lie but he didn’t see it. Sir was smiling, just a little, and if his gaze was worried, that was right, too. Wasn’t it? “You still…” _What? Still what?_ Vicious little voices in his head wondered what he’d fill that with. _Sir loves you? Wants you? Why should he?_

It wasn’t fair to put all this on Sir. Bucky swallowed his tears, painfully. Shivered again, then tried to correct his posture. “Still want me?”

“Oh, honey, of course I do.” Sir leaned in and kissed his forehead. “I always want you, I’ll always love you. Even if you _had_ done something wrong, I would still love you. I promise.” He brushed tears from Bucky’s cheeks. “God, you crashed hard, didn’t you? We need to get some fluids and food into you so your blood sugar doesn’t tank. Do you think you could eat or drink for me, a little?”

Bucky nodded. Eating was almost never a problem once he muscled past the first few swallows, his body would take that over. Good thing he never needed to manage his weight; his metabolism would never have allowed it. Bucky uttered a weak little laugh, that surprised him into laughing harder. It trailed off into a series of coughs, but he felt a little less… horrible.

On the one hand, he knew what had happened; he’d burned through all his endorphins and adrenalin in a single shot, without any time, and the bottom fell out, so to speak. But he’d never experienced it before. “Hurts,” he said. He pressed a hand to his chest, to try to explain it to Sir, who was still looking sweetly concerned.

Sir nodded. “Sub drop,” he said. “Dropped you out of your high too hard and fast. I’ve been there, it sucks. But it’ll get better.” He rummaged in the tiny onboard refrigerator and came up with a packet of trail mix, dried fruit and nuts and chocolates. He tore it open and offered it to Bucky. “Eat. You want Gatorade or water to drink?”

“Blue?” Bucky asked. Gatorade was revolting, and the worst thing about it was that it tasted fine -- good, even -- as long as his body needed it, but as soon as he reached some sort of equilibrium, it would turn disgusting, mid-swallow. The blue was pretty bad, but the least awful of the choices. He tipped his head back and dumped a handful of mix into his mouth, counting his chews to make sure he didn’t swallow it whole.

“Good boy; blue it is.” Sir reached into the fridge again -- cold Gatorade was marginally less revolting than warm -- and cracked the lid on a bottle before handing it over. “I have some tastier snacks, too, but finish that first; it’s a better combination of sugars and protein to start with.” He smiled warmly at Bucky. “Have to take good care of you, you know.”

Bucky managed a scoffing noise before polishing off the rest of the snack. He could run for quite a while on sub-optimal conditions and Sir knew it. He got about halfway through the bottle of blue liquid death before it turned sour on him, and he finished it anyway, listening to it slosh around in his stomach a moment. “Could just about commit murder for a Twinkie.”

“I have chocolate,” Sir said, amused, “but not Twinkies. But far be it from me to judge anyone else’s post-trauma junk food cravings, since mine is fast food cheeseburgers. Should I have Happy stop at a 7-11 on our way home?”

Bucky nodded. Twinkies were good. So was Cheez Whiz, but he wouldn’t have admitted that under threat of torture. Sir was pretty weirdly picky about his cheese. What Sir didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, though.

Bucky tipped his head to one side, considering that. Not the thought, exactly, but… “feeling better,” he said. He wanted to apologize again, for being trouble, for needing so much care. It was part of the deal, though, and Bucky would be mortified if Tony apologized for needing reassurance. So, it was fair. “Thank you, Sir.”

Warm fingers stroked through his hair again. “Any time,” Sir said. “Just want you to feel good.”

Bucky caught Sir’s hand, brought it to his mouth, and dropped a kiss on Sir’s knuckles. “Gettin’ there,” he promised. “Want a Twinkie an’ a cherry coke slurpee an’ watch somethin’ stupid on television? And a little bit of sleep?”

“You got it, gorgeous.” Sir swooped in to kiss him, lightly, then pushed back up onto the empty seat to instruct Happy. “Come sit up here and cuddle with me while we’re waiting on your order.”

Bucky crawled up onto the seat, stretched out a little, and laid his head against Sir’s thigh. Everything was going to be okay. Sir promised.

 


	6. 4 - Cupping & Overstimulation (sub!Bucky)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: BDSM, Kink Negotiation, safewords, non-existent refractory period, Dom/sub, switching, oral sex, safeword use, risk aware consensual kink, cupping, overstimulation, masturbating, vibrators, anal plugs, multiple orgasms, blood and gore, accidental injury
> 
> PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON THIS CHAPTER IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH ABOUT BLOOD.

Tony liked subbing for Bucky. He liked it a _lot_ ; Bucky was exactly the right combination of caring and ruthless, and nearly always managed to completely lift Tony right out of his head, which was one of the reasons Tony did this.

But he liked domming for Bucky just as much, because unlike Tony, who was a difficult, bratty sub at best -- no sense fronting about it -- Bucky was endlessly sweet and obedient and giving. He took everything that Tony could dish out, not only taking it, but _craving_ it and asking for more. It was _gorgeous_ , when he hit the endorphin high of subspace, floating on sensation and a desperate need to please Tony.

Tony walked in a slow spiral around Bucky, kneeling and waiting on orders, wrists crossed at his back and his eyes downcast. So, so sweet. Tony didn’t deserve him, but that didn’t matter, because Tony was what Bucky had chosen. “How are you feeling tonight, sweetheart?”

“Keyed up,” Bucky admitted. “That… thing--” he waved a hand around, indicating an aborted mission when cover was blown and had ended with a whole nest of Hydra assholes getting away, and worse, getting away with their experiment intact had been frustrating for everyone “-- has me edgy.” He shot Tony a sly look. “Might give you trouble, for a change. Sir.”

“What I’m hearing is that I need to wear you out a bit,” Tony said, humming tunelessly. “I’ve got some ideas. Tell me how much pain you need now.” Bucky used pain a little differently than Tony; sometimes he needed it for grounding, if he was feeling jittery. That had taken Tony a while to figure out.

Bucky considered it for a bit. “A whipping might help, but I’m pretty… impatient today. Need t’ slow down. Cups, maybe?”

“Good boy,” Tony said. He brushed his hand over Bucky’s hair and then gestured. “On the bed, naked for me, while I get the cups out.”

He didn’t keep track of Bucky while he rummaged in the toybox; unlike Tony, Bucky wasn’t likely to act up just for the fun of it. The set of cups they had came in a variety of sizes, and were quite lovely glass domes. By the time he found the lighter and alcohol to create a nice clean burn, Bucky was already on the bed.

Face down, face tipped to the side as he watched Tony with a warm, almost indulgent stare, Bucky was still twitchier than normal, absently kicking the mattress with one foot as he waited, the plates in his arm shifting restlessly, a soft clicking like an old fashioned typewriter, as he drummed his fingers against the opposite elbow. He’d pulled his hair back into a sloppy bun and loose curls decorated the back of his neck.

“You really are restless today, aren’t you?” Tony said, setting up the gear on the nightstand where it would be easy to reach. He ruffled the hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck, and stroked two fingers down along Bucky’s spine. “Let’s get you something to focus on, hm?”

Tony selected the largest cup and used an alcohol flame to burn out its air, then carefully set it against Bucky’s skin, just over his right shoulderblade. The vacuum in the cup drew up Bucky’s skin, turning it pink and then purple with the pressure.

Bucky hissed, then squirmed a little, and finally sank into the bed, eyes drifting closed like he was at a day spa, getting a hot-rock massage, with little pained sighs from time to time. “Feels good,” he murmured. “Almost.”

He didn’t stay that complacent. As Tony added more cups, dotting his back with them in a simple curving pattern that would almost dance along his skin when completed, Bucky twitched and gasped. The final ones, across his lower back and upper thigh where he was more sensitive, made him actively whimper as the heated glass touched his skin. His voice cracked, “How long?”

“How long is it going to take for you to relax?” Tony returned, though he was watching the clock closely.

“Ten minutes?” Bucky offered; that was horseshit. Gwyneth Paltrow did _ten minutes;_  Tony had read that in a magazine the last time he’d been on a long flight (commercial, too, what even?) and she was a civilian.

Tony huffed. “Sorry, I didn’t realize this was a skin treatment,” he said, loading it with sarcasm. “Hang on while I get the mud masks out.”

“Asshole,” Bucky muttered into the pillow. “A’ight, a’ight. Twenty.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Tony said. “And that I have other tricks up my sleeve. Let’s see if you can actually stop fidgeting inside twenty minutes. Don’t make me get out the bells.”

It took a while, longer than Tony would have expected. Bucky usually got in the right headspace a lot faster, even if he fought like hell going into subspace without being chased there. By the time he settled, the marks were dark, rich purple and might even last into the next day, a gorgeous reminder as they faded to brown circles and then vanished entirely. When Tony popped the first cup off, Bucky jerked, as if surprised that the time had passed.

“ _Ow_ ,” he complained as Tony pushed his finger into the tender skin, prodding at the bruise.

“Mmhm.” Tony popped off the second cup, watched Bucky tense up for the poke, and waited until he was relaxing again before testing the edges of that bruise, as well.

Bucky made a disgruntled sound through clenched teeth. “Th’ edge is _tender_ ,” he admitted. “How’d they come out?” He couldn’t move much without risking the rest of the cups popping off on their own, which was dangerous and messy.

“It’s _lovely_ ,” Tony said. “JARVIS, take a picture and project it over there so Bucky can see it.” The hologram flickered to life before he even finished talking, showing a pair of purple discs high on Bucky’s back, and a descending series of cups covering similarly dark circles. “You’re so pretty,” Tony said, and popped another.

“ _You’re_ pretty,” Bucky said, then added, as Tony tugged one of the cups off and mashed three fingers into the center, “pretty _sadistic_. Ow. Mother _fucker_.”

Despite the uncharacteristic backtalk, Bucky was almost purring by the time Tony got to the bottom, limp and unmoving, aside from tipping his neck to check Tony’s progress. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Tony dragged a finger down Bucky’s back, tracing over several of the dark spots. “You about ready for some more?”

Bucky nodded. “Mmhmm,” he said. “What can I do for you, today? Sir?” He managed to slide a hell of a lot of innuendo into a simple question. He slithered off the bed and ended up on his knees at Tony’s feet, which was so. fucking. gorgeous. Every damn time.

“Oh, baby, I am going to wear you right out,” Tony said. He cupped Bucky’s jaw and leaned down for a kiss, slow and thorough. “I’m thinking of finding out just how many times you can come for me. What do you think?”

Bucky’s eyebrows went up, eyes widening, then a slow, satisfied smirk crossed his mouth. He put some effort into schooling his expression, then, “That sounds like a lot of work for you, Sir. Are you sure I deserve it?” That was still a little smug; Bucky was out-of-reason pleased with himself whenever he managed to wear Tony out, which was admittedly, most of the time.

“I’m sure,” Tony said. “If only because I’m curious, and you know what I’m like when I want to know things.” He kissed Bucky again. “I’m going to make you come until you’re a shivering mess, and then I’m going to keep going. Just because I can. And then, if you’re good, I’ll fuck your mouth.”

Bucky licked his lower lip, leaving it shiny-wet, eyes hungry. “Yes, sir,” he breathed. “I’ll be good.”

“I know you will, cupcake.” Tony sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his hands. “The first couple are always nice and easy,” he pointed out. “You go ahead and do that. I’ll watch.”

Bucky stayed on the floor, spreading his knees a little to give himself room to work. He gave his head a little toss, loose ends of his hair falling in his face, and leaned back on his left hand, arching his back so that Tony had a good view. He took himself in hand, gave a few, brisk tugs to get things started. That gorgeous cock of his perked up almost immediately and Bucky ignored it in favor of teasing at his own nipples, twisting and plucking at the skin there. He licked his fingers, returned to abusing his tit, pinching until the skin was red and swollen. He ran a hand over his stomach, then down lower.

His teeth dented his lower lip as his hand came back down on his dick, giving himself a few minutes of easy strokes. His eyelashes fluttered as his eyes closed. His tongue darted out, wet his lips, and then he was jerking it in earnest, quick pumps of his fist as his hips rocked up to match.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Tony purred. “Look at you, so wound up and ready for it. Come for me, darling, let me see.”

Bucky moaned, soft and urgent. He fucked up into his fist, hips flexing gorgeously, and then stiffened, back a glorious arch. His spill dripped down the side of his hand, splattering onto his belly and then dripping onto the floor. Bucky drew a few shuddering breaths before pulling back into his attentive kneeling position, hands on his thighs. “Another?”

“Yes, indeed,” Tony agreed. “Right into it. I’m just going to get a couple of toys for us to play with when you start to slow down.” Honestly, he wasn’t entirely convinced Bucky _could_ slow down; his refractory period was almost nonexistent. But overstimulated, that was a thing that could happen, and Tony was pretty sure he could use it to push Bucky over the edge. Or at least, that it would be fun to try.

Vibrating plug, obviously, the one that was angled to hit him right in the prostate. No teasing needed here. And no cockrings; that was the opposite effect from what Tony wanted. But the adjustable-circumference one with the attachable bullet vibe, that might be fun. Nipple clamps, maybe, just to keep him wound up between rounds? Why not? Not the bells; that was a different game, but a nice, padded set with a good firm tension.

He came back to Bucky to find him already on the edge, shuddering with impending orgasm. “Almost there again, already?”

Bucky nodded, then offered, “Slick would be good, in a bit.” And then, without any teasing or fanfare, although it was obvious he was still completely aware of Tony’s gaze on him, beat the clock a second time.

He was shivering and moaning after the second jolted out of him, each stroke of his own hand drawing soft sounds out of his mouth and his eyes were closed, slitting open from time to time, but mostly just flickering movements under his eyelids, like dreaming awake. His mouth hung open and he took great, shuddering breaths.

If Tony gave him any break at all, he’d be back at it within five minutes, but even supersoldier stamina had its limits. Relentless stimulation, that was the key. “Keep going,” he urged.

Bucky whimpered, then, looking at Tony, a few minutes into the next one. “Slick, please? Sir?”

“Of course,” Tony said. He flicked open the bottle and squeezed some out onto his own hand, letting it warm up before slathering it on Bucky’s cock himself, taking advantage of the position to play with the ridge, tracing his fingers around it a few times before following the curve up toward the slit, probably beginning to feel a little achy and raw by now. “How’s that, honey?”

Bucky groaned, curling up a bit before stretching out, hands behind him, offering himself to Tony’s touch. “Oh, god, that’s…” he gasped, “Tony!” His thighs were shaking with the strain. Tony thumbed over the crown and Bucky yelled as another orgasm was ripped out of him, splashing down Tony’s wrist. Bucky collapsed onto the floor, panting for breath, quivering. It took him a good five minutes to uncurl with a tired, slightly rueful smile. “I c’n do it, jus’ like it better when you do for me.” It was not… quite… an apology.

“Hm, well, who doesn’t?” Tony asked philosophically. He curled his hand around Bucky’s cock again, stroking gently, tugging him back to full hardness. “If that’s what you want, sugarplum, that’s what you’ll get. Keep your hands behind your back.” He squeezed a little on the downstroke, ramping it up, and twisted his wrist with each upstroke, pumping ruthlessly.

Bucky wasn’t usually one for dirty talk; he got out of reason self-conscious and blushy, neck heating painfully and he’d stutter to a halt with any bit of even perceived negative feedback, but he was so jittery and stimulated that it didn’t take long before he was pleading with Tony, begging. Tony wasn’t even sure if he was asking for Tony to stop, or to never stop. Absolutely filthy, dirty words were pouring out of his mouth: praise for Tony, swears, suggestions. A lurid description of wanting to shove Tony over on his back and for Bucky to rub his lube-slicked cock over Tony’s chest and belly and come on his throat.

“That sounds like something to save for the next time it’s your turn,” Tony said, because _hnnng_ , that sounded amazing, and Tony was definitely feeling the way his cock wanted to bust out of his pants. But it was a distant urgency, and letting that happen was not going to bleed out all of Bucky’s weird nervous energy. “Right now I just want to see you come again, sweetheart, let me have it.”

Bucky was decidedly slowing down; it took another several minutes to Tony doing his best handjob before Bucky arched up again with a stuttering scream. “Oh, god, oh, god, oh, _gooooood_ ,” Bucky moaned, and Tony realized he’d come almost dry, a thin rivulet of semen was all he’d managed. He curled up again, a protective circle around his aching groin.

Tony gave him a couple of minutes to recover, then nudged at his shoulder. “Come on, sugarbritches, I’m pretty sure you’ve got at least three more in you.”

“No, no I don’t,” Bucky said, keeping his head tucked stubbornly in, sounding delightfully petulant.

“How can we be sure unless we try?” Tony asked cheerfully. “I knew I should’ve tied you down first. Oh, well; something to keep in mind for the next time. Come on, up up up, we’ve got a few more to go.”

Bucky whined and complained, but allowed Tony to coax him upright. Despite his insistence that he was _done_ , it didn’t seem like his brain was in control, because his cock twitched and hardened again at even the lightest brushes.

That one took a lot longer, between what Bucky had to do for himself when Tony’s wrist got tired, and Tony, almost twenty minutes, before Bucky was practically sobbing. He was soaked with sweat, each muscle outlined with a shimmer, his hair stringy and clinging to his face, lip abraded by his constant biting, but he finally jerked, twitched, and tipped over the edge again.

The room was musky with the smell of sweat and come, and Bucky’s chest was heaving as he struggled to breathe, open mouthed and eyes a little wild, tears drying on his cheeks. He couldn’t even be bothered to try to cover himself, just sprawled out on his back, a grunt of pain punched out of him when he couldn’t control the drop and landed on his bruises.

Tony took advantage of his slack posture to put the nipple clamps on him. Bucky tried to bat him away listlessly, but wasn’t putting any real urgency into it. “Check in, sweetheart,” Tony told him. “I want to drive you to the absolute _limit_ , but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky said, “good, I’m good. S’helpin’. Can’t think, much. Everythin’s all fuzzy.” He turned his head in Tony’s direction, but based on the blurry look in them, Tony wasn’t sure he was seeing much.

Tony nodded. “Good, that’s good, honey. You’re doing so well for me. Let’s see about...” He flicked on the vibrating plug and trailed its tip up and down Bucky’s cock, watching in fascination as it twitched and swelled and filled yet again.

Bucky’s back arched off the floor, pulled upward as if by invisible strings and his hands went into his own hair, shaking his head in urgent denial. “Oh, god, no, that’s… no fair, Tony, oh, gooood,” Bucky stretched the word out until it dissolved into wordless moaning.

“I know, I know, I’m just the worst,” Tony agreed, not stopping. “Here’s the choice you have, honeybritches: I can keep doing this, or I can put this in your gorgeous ass and let it hit you from the inside. What do you think?”

Bucky rocked up against Tony’s hand and the toy with renewed urgency. “Uh, uh, uh… inside,” he whispered, barely audible; despite being worn out, Bucky flushed again, throat darkening. “Need, need it, oh, god, Tony…” He got his eyes open, wide and dark. There was something deeply compelling in his gaze, pushing through exhaustion. Depleted as he was, begging Tony for _more_.

“You got it, gorgeous,” Tony agreed. He moved as quickly as he could, because he didn’t want to let Bucky rest any more than he had to. He lubed up and teased a finger at Bucky’s hole, and it all but pulled him in, already relaxed somewhat just from sheer exhaustion. “Oh, look at that,” he sighed. “You’re so pretty when you need it.”

“Always,” Bucky said. He raised one hand, trembling all over, and touched Tony’s face. “Always need you.”

Tony pressed in slowly, feeling Bucky’s walls squeeze around him, searching for the prostate. He knew he found it when Bucky squirmed and groaned; he stayed there a moment, stroking at it and gently poking, until Bucky was whining from the stimulation. Then he pulled out and came back with a second finger. “Going to make you come untouched sometime, too,” he told Bucky conversationally. “Just keep doing this until you tip right over.”

Bucky moaned, twisting on Tony’s fingers. “Oh, oh, oh, Tony, Tony, that’s so…” He pushed himself up, ass leaving the floor until he was balanced on his toes and his shoulders, hips moving in time with Tony’s fingers.

The plug was curved slightly but not terribly thick; two fingers was enough to ease it in. Tony got it nestled in Bucky’s ass and wiggled it a little to make sure it was situated nicely against his prostate, then turned it on without any warning.

Bucky all but screamed, gasping as the vibrations hit him. He squirmed, hips pushing up as if he was trying to escape, legs opening and then squeezing together. “Oh, god, oh my Christ…” He rolled over, ass clenching. His hands went over his head, as if protecting himself, and he spewed out a number of curses, pleading, swearing, “evil, you’re _evil_ , oh, my fucking Christ… Tony…”

“I know, babycakes, I know,” Tony said. He slid his hand over Bucky’s flank, soothing, then reached around to lightly stroke Bucky’s cock again. “But you love it.”

Bucky whined, then got up on his hands and knees, pushing urgently with Tony’s hand. “Oh, Tony, Tony, please, please, oh, god, this is… _awful_. Need, need… oh, my god.” His elbows wavered until he collapsed partially, ass up and on display for Tony, wordlessly begging for relief and release, his body fighting itself. Wanting to stop and needing to _not stop_ all at once.

Tony took the choice away from him, a curse and a blessing at once, by firming his grip and stroking harder, faster. “Come on, sweetheart, you can do it. Want to feel you come for me.”

Bucky shuddered all over, then worked into Tony’s grip, hips moving restlessly, thrusting without any control on Bucky’s part at all, sloppy and needy, accompanied by deep, rumbling groans until he shouted, spilling hot and wet and slippery over Tony’s hand. He went limp, still on his knees, legs spread wantonly, face pressed against the floor as he struggled for breath, then… “oh, god, turn it off, please, please, Tony, I… oh, my _god…_ ” he whimpered and then, without warning, screamed again and spasmed, more come splattering onto the floor.

Bucky ended up curled up again, like a pillbug, shivering and wrecked and moaning, near to sobbing with it. Jittering. “Tony, Tony, _please…_ ”

“I’m here, honey,” Tony said, petting Bucky’s sweat-damp hair and skin. “I’m right here, and you’re being _so good_ , so _very_ good for me, I couldn’t be happier and prouder.” He leaned down to kiss Bucky’s shoulder. “Love you so much, sweetheart. Ready to try for one last one?”

Bucky mewled, staring up at Tony with wide, wet eyes. Looking at Tony as if he’d never seen anything else in his life, never wanted to. “Okay, okay, for you, I can… yeah, okay, baby, please, Tony, for you. For you.”

“So good,” Tony repeated. “You’re so good, you’re perfect.” He pressed carefully at a few of the bruises on Bucky’s back, a little jolt of pain to help Bucky stabilize, and then reached for the strap-on bullet vibe. “Let’s get you coming and going -- hehe, that was a good one!”

“No, _wazzunt_ ,” Bucky complained. “Bad, bad joke… oh, god, no, no, Tony…” Despite the complaints, Bucky put his hands at the small of his back, sat wearily on his heels, wincing a little as the plug settled, buzzing fitfully.

Tony snickered as he helped Bucky sit up, and then wrapped the bullet vibe’s strap in place. “I’m not going to ask if you’re ready, because I already know the answer is no. So I’m just going to tell you it’s coming in three, two, one...” He hit the remote on the vibe. “I know you can do this for me, cupcake, just relax and let it happen.”

Struggling with it, Bucky twitched, rocking up into the vibe’s sensation, and settling back, which nudged the plug. Each roll of his hips was accompanied by a high, reedy moan. “I can’t,” he whined through clenched teeth. Sweat glistened on his skin and his hair was plastered across his cheeks and over his forehead. “Tony, I… oh, Christ, I…” He clenched and unclenched, his fists, his thighs, his jaw gritted and strained, as if an orgasm was like something he could lift up, if he just pushed hard enough. Every time he tried to relax, the buzzing and shaking from the devices got him going again.

Tears spilled down his cheeks, his teeth bared in a wordless snarl. The cords in his throat were shockingly visible, pale against his flushed skin, and then… “oh, come on, come on, I…” His cock jerked, twitched, then… “no, no, no, no, come on… Tony… I don’t… I can’t… I can’t… please, please….” He gulped air, chest heaving with the effort.

_Screamed_.

Shuddered.

Tony absently wondered where he’d been storing it all, because even after so many, Bucky went off like a cork in a champagne bottle, a luscious, jetting arc of it.

With a gentle sigh, Bucky fell back onto the floor and just lay there, legs sprawled, arms away from his body, hair spread around him like a halo.

“Oh, honey,” Tony sighed. “What you let me do to you... God, you’re beautiful. So good for me, you know that?” He trailed gentle fingers up Bucky’s cock possessively, but it didn’t even twitch. “I think we actually hit your limit there, Buckyboo.” He turned off the vibrators, talking the whole time about how perfect and beautiful Bucky had been. Bucky barely twitched as he took off the toys and put them aside. “All right, sweetheart. I’m going to give you some water, and then, if you’re good to go, I’m going to want that pretty mouth of yours on me.”

Bucky managed a nod. “ _Timeout_ ,” he grumbled, between long, deep breaths. He lay on the floor, just breathing, for endless moments, twitching occasionally. Five or six minutes passed and then, he bucked a few times like a landed fish before getting enough momentum to roll over and get back on his knees. He drank the offered water, emptying the bottle in a single, long pull, his throat working gorgeously as he leaned back, catching every last drop.

“Okay, okay, baby, green. I c’n do’t,” he said. He rolled his tongue around in his mouth a few times, dreamily, before wetting his lips.

His back was a little raw-looking, and the glimpse Tony’d gotten of his knees, they were bruised and abraded by the carpeting. But he’d said green, and he hadn’t suggested another position. Bucky’s pain tolerance was ridiculous, even compared to Tony’s.

Tony climbed to his feet and unzipped his pants, shoving them and his underwear down to free his dick. He’d mostly been ignoring the press of his own cock in favor of pushing Bucky to his limits, but now that he was thinking about it, it was straining urgently, eager for the promise of release.

Tony slipped his fingers through Bucky’s sweat-matted hair, then curled his hand into a careful fist. “Open up,” he said. “I want it hard and fast today.” That was Bucky’s cue to tap out, if he wasn’t up for it.

Bucky wiped his chin, then rested his hands on his thighs, still splattered in his own drying come, looking attentive and eager and so beautiful that Tony thought he might actually die from it. He was going to look even more perfect with his mouth swollen and used. “Ready, sir,” he said, voice already hoarse.

Christ, how had he gotten so lucky? Tony fed his cock into Bucky’s waiting mouth, slow only for the moment or two it took to get nice and wet. Then he was fucking Bucky’s mouth in earnest, driving toward the back of Bucky’s mouth and feeling Bucky’s tongue flickering across his skin as he pushed and pulled.

Bucky’s eyes drifted shut and his shoulders sagged a little as he relaxed into it, and it was good, better than good, it was _perfect_ ; Bucky looked utterly _used_ , gorgeous and limp with pleasure and the edge of exhaustion. It was perfect, it was amazing, and then Tony pushed and there was something resisting the thrust that hadn’t been there before and Bucky made a-- a _noise_.

There was... there was blood on Bucky’s lips, a _lot_ of it, very suddenly, and it was _horrifying._ Tony nearly backed halfway across the room in shock. He looked down and there was _blood_. There was blood on his _dick_ , enough of it to drip to the floor, holy _shit_ \--

_Bucky_. He’d done something to Bucky to make this happen, what the fuck had he _done_? They’d done this dozens, maybe _hundreds_ of times, if you counted vanilla blowjobs. “Bucky. Honey, Jesus, what’s-- Red red red, baby, that’s not right, that’s-- _fuck_.” He scrambled back across the room to cup Bucky’s face in his hands. Shit _so much blood_ , where was it all _coming_ from?

Bucky tugged Tony’s hands away from his face, lips pressed tight together. He looked around with quick, frantic motions, then got to his feet, unsteady. Blood was dripping down his chest, and he wiped his chin with the back of his arm, leaving another scarlet smear. The bedside table held a tray of snacks, a few towels, and--

Bucky grabbed a towel and held it to his mouth. “ _Fuck_ ,” he said, muffled, and the towel was already staining. “Jesus….” Even being muffled, his words sounded… mushy? Stretched maybe. “M’okay, Tony, jus’... hang on.”

He staggered into the bathroom and Tony heard a wet splatter as Bucky spit into the sink.

Tony shuddered at the sound and followed Bucky, stopping in the door of the bathroom. “That much blood is _not okay_ ,” he said, and it sounded a little shrill even to his own ears, but that seemed justified given how much blood Bucky had just spit into the sink.

“Can’t swallow it, baby,” Bucky said, keeping his head over the sink. “I’ll jus’ puke it back up and that’ll look even worse.” And there was something wrong, _desperately wrong_ with the way he was talking. Almost like he was lisping. Or a third-grader who’d lost some teeth.

“Bucky, honey, what the hell did I _do to you_?” Tony reached out a hand, then pulled it back, not sure what to do. “Do I need to call the medics?” He swallowed, hard. “Don’t lie to me, okay, just-- Tell me what happened.”

Bucky cupped his hand under the sink tap and took a gulp of water, swished and spat again. “Tore my frenulum,” he reported. “I think.” He raised his head and stuck his tongue out -- bright red, ugggg, _gross_ \-- and it went way out. A good inch, inch and a half further than normal. Like he was trying out for a Gene Simmons look-alike contest. Except Bucky left a smear of blood on his chin when he did that. “Yep.”

Tony gagged and had to look away. “Fuck,” he cursed. “What do we do? Is it-- Shit, I shouldn’t be asking you to talk, should I? Okay, okay, I can...” He looked down and was startled all over again by the darkening smear of blood on his dick. “Fuck.” He grabbed a washcloth and wiped himself down. “JARVIS. Look up care for a torn frenulum.”

“Medical can provide an antibiotic rinse to prevent infection. Ice, in the form of a sugar-free popsicle or crushed ice, can be applied for pain. Unless Mr. Barnes reports that part of the tendon feels as though it is missing, it should heal without medical intervention. On a baseline human, in a period of two weeks. Soft, unheated foods that do not require chewing are recommended,” JARVIS reported. “Or, you may simply ignore it. There are few permanent effects, aside from a higher frequency of bitten tongue and in some patients, a higher frequency of choking when swallowing too rapidly.”

“I’m not _ignoring it_ , do you _see_ how much blood this is?” Tony demanded. “Fuck. Oh, god, honey, I’m so so _so_ sorry.”

“I’m okay,” Bucky insisted. “S’like a head wound, jus’ bleeds a lot. An’ --” Bucky made a face, then spat again, “-- I’m prone t’ it. Hydra assholes used to do it a lot, shovin’ a biteguard in m’ mouth too fast. The tendon’s weak, even with it bein’ _me_.” Bucky spat again. “It’ll heal, Tony. I promise.”

“I believe you,” Tony said. “That doesn’t mean I don’t still feel like shit for making it happen. Or for being in any tiny way remotely like Hydra, even if my motives were entirely unlike theirs.” He shuddered. “You’re going to have to live with a little extra coddling, for a while.”

Bucky rinsed his mouth again, then offered Tony a small, close-lipped smile, that Tony was pained to realize was probably Bucky’s efforts to spare Tony the visuals. “Bet that looked a sight, huh?” He glanced down at Tony. “You think I bit ya?” He grabbed another washcloth, wet it, and started cleaning up his chest. He hissed as he stretched across to get his right arm, pulling the bruises on his back.

“That was _terrifying_ , but I think I would have noticed if you’d bitten me there, babycakes, even in the midst of panic.” Tony wet his washcloth down and finished his cleanup job, then tossed it aside. He got a clean towel and wet it down. “Let me help,” he said, dabbing it at the mess on Bucky’s arm where the blood had smeared.

“Sorry, baby,” Bucky said. “Didn’t mean t’ scare you.”

“Mr. Barnes,” JARVIS said, “loathe as I am to become mother to an entire generation of superheroes, even with your enhanced metabolism, I believe it would aid your healing process if you _stopped talking_.”

“Yes, listen to JARVIS,” Tony said, snapping his fingers. “Come on, let’s go back to bed and I’ll get you all cleaned up and, you know, generally abase myself in guilt.”

Bucky made a grumbling noise in his throat, rolling his eyes at the ceiling, which was not where JARVIS was, but Tony supposed that he could be forgiven for that. _Everyone_ did it. Bucky made a few, rapid motions with his hands -- when the hell had Clint taught him ASL? -- and Tony had to slow down to interpret. _Get towel and crush ice. I lay down. ok?_

“Okay,” he said. That was easy enough to do. “I’ll be right back.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Cupping visual](https://kittenstoys.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/picture-206.jpg).
> 
> More about [tongue frenulum injury](https://www.steadyhealth.com/medical-answers/torn-frenulum-under-the-tongue-what-now). (No pictures.)
> 
> Tisfan had a “friend” back in college who was into gags and not particularly gentle with them. He broke at least two different partner’s frenulums.


	7. Interlude - Scene 4 Aftercare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: BDSM, aftercare, blood and gore, accidental injury

Bucky threw himself onto the bed while Tony was cleaning up, and damn, he wished he had _not_ done that, because his dick ached and was sore and even the soft sheets chafed. He rolled over onto his back and fuck, that was even worse. The cupping bruises were tender and painful -- Tony’d driven Bucky’s serum to the absolute limits, and as far as the enhancements were concerned, lack of sperm was just as important as the bruises, so both things were under production, slowed by Bucky’s exhaustion.

Also, his mouth was still bleeding fitfully, and on his back, that meant it was dripping right down his throat, and yuck.

Bucky shifted again, groaning with a million aches and pains, trying to find a comfortable position.

He managed to find a position that wasn’t too bad, curled up on his right side (never, _ever_ curled up on his left, that shoved all the arm’s underpinnings into his spine and was brutally uncomfortable, even under the best of circumstances) with the metal arm up and over his head. Sometimes he wished it was easier to take off, because there were times when he just did not know where to put the damn thing while he was trying to relax.

Usually, aftercare for Bucky meant cuddles, reassurance, something to eat to keep his metabolism going, and Tony praising him for a job well done.

Seemed strange and somehow wonderful that this time, Bucky was going to need a little more than that.

Something about Tony made Bucky… human again. Almost all the way. It was… wonderful. Amazing.

Bucky hoped Tony knew that, how rare and precious that sensation was; that Bucky had vulnerabilities, that he could be dependent on someone else, need medical care and comfort, rather than just maintenance. Like a tool.

Tony came in from the bathroom with several towels draped over his arm. He sat on the edge of the bed where Bucky could see him, and put one of them near Bucky’s chest. “That’s to swap out for the one under your face if it gets too much blood on it,” he said. “I’ve got some crushed ice in the freezer when you’re ready for that -- do you want to wait for the bleeding to slow down some more, first?”

Bucky tried to remember what Hydra had done in the way of first aid; _mistake_. He jerked as a few memories hit him, then shoved them away. “Lemme try a mouthful,” he suggested. “Slow the bleeding down.” It hurt to talk, the wound under his tongue pulling and bitching about it. More blood and he spat into the towel, wishing vaguely that Tony didn’t prefer light, airy colors. There just seemed something wrong with spitting red blood onto a white towel. _Yuck_. His mouth tasted like he’d been sucking pennies.

Tony nodded and got up, leaving the room. Bucky could hear him moving around in the kitchen as he got out a cup and got ice out of the freezer. He was muttering under his breath, but Bucky’s hearing wasn’t _quite_ good enough to make out words. He came back in wearing a sympathetic smile, though. He handed the mug to Bucky. “I’ll let you figure out how much you want to try,” he said. “You work on that; I’m going to clean you off.”

_Ok. love you._ Bucky signed. He wanted to smile at Tony, he was pretty sure that there was some major guilt going on behind the front that Tony was putting up, but he wasn’t sure what his mouth looked like yet. Best not. He struggled to sit up enough to take a sip of the icemelt at the bottom of the mug, and that felt good. Cool against his aching throat. He made a contented sort of sigh, and then lifted his tongue a bit (ow!) to shake the crushed ice into his mouth. It ached against his teeth for a moment, then the whole area went blissfully numb.

“That helps, hm?” Tony said at Bucky’s sigh, smiling. He took one of the damp towels still draped over his arm and started wiping down Bucky’s back, careful over the cupping bruises, but thorough. He carefully wiped lube and spattered come off Bucky’s ass and thighs, and continued working downward, moving slow and carefully, not leaving anything out.

The ice melted and trickled down his throat. Felt nice. Tony’s hands on him felt nicer. He didn’t quite fall asleep, but he let his eyes slide closed and just went limp. Let Tony do what he wanted, didn’t even care, gave a few soft sighs and a plaintive whine when Tony’s hand stopped moving, shifting a little bit to encourage him to continue petting and stroking Bucky’s skin.

Tony hummed, sounding amused, and complied with the wordless demand. When he’d finished wiping Bucky down and cleaning him up, he resumed his seat on the side of the bed and stroked up and down Bucky’s back and side, whatever he could reach. “Don’t talk, just nod yes or no -- you want me to put some numbing cream on your back?”

Usually Bucky _liked_ bruises, relished them, even. But he was fucking exhausted (glad he didn’t say that outloud because Tony would have been giving him significant eyebrows at the phrasing) and the ache was nagging at him. Nodded, slow, deliberate. Let himself swallow the remainder of the ice and took another scoop. His tongue wasn’t hurting quite so much; priority injury spot. Like a headwound. The accelerated healing would prioritize. Probably. They’d pushed pretty hard today. Bucky was utterly depleted.

“Okay, I’ll do that and then find you some... I dunno, applesauce or something, for your snack. The chocolate-covered nuts are definitely not going to work this time.” Tony bent down and kissed his forehead gently, smoothed his hair back. The numbing cream was close by in the nightstand -- they used it for play occasionally, but mostly Tony kept it on hand to soothe soldering burns and other minor injuries -- and started gingerly rubbing it into Bucky’s back.

Bucky groaned with relief as the cool cream soothed its way onto his back, relieving the tight, tender soreness there. He shifted, easing his way back onto his belly, trying not to squash his cock -- damn thing felt swollen and achy -- but wanting Tony’s hands on him, as much as possible. “Thass ni…” he slurred around the ice.

“Good, it’s meant to be,” Tony said, taking the hint and using both hands. “And you were amazing, you deserve all the nice things.”

There was a richness in Tony’s voice, he sounded… _pleased_? Content? That wasn’t normal -- not that Bucky was objecting, but -- he twisted around a little to look at Tony’s face, over his shoulder. Ow, twinge. But it seemed important. He didn’t get much of a look before Tony ran his fingers over Bucky’s lower back, just brushing over the top of his ass, and that sent delicious shivers through him, soothing. He made a helpless, whimpering little noise of delight and dropped back onto the bed.

Tony chuckled a little, and worked downward some more, covering the bruises on Bucky’s ass and the tops of his thighs. “Feels good, I know. Love when you do this for me.” He added some pressure outside a bruise circle, pressing into the muscles under the skin.

Bucky hummed, snuggling into the blankets some more. He pillowed his head on his arms and turned to look, but he couldn’t see much, just the side of Tony’s face as he worked more cream into Bucky’s back and legs. He swallowed the remaining ice, turned his head, spat.

All white, all right. His tongue was numb from the ice, tender on the underside, but probably okay. Stupid. He’d been blissed out and exhausted and just… didn’t move at the right time. Caught off guard.

“S’nice,” Bucky managed again. “... baby ‘alk ‘o me.” His words were badly slurred while he tried to figure out what sounds he could make without reopening the tear. There wasn’t much of his back or backside that Tony hadn’t already rubbed cream on, so Bucky put in a little effort and rolled onto his side again, patting the bed next to him. “‘Mere.”

Tony capped the tube of cream and put it away, then picked up a spare towel to wipe off his hands as he sat where Bucky had indicated. “What do you need, honey? Besides a snack, pretty soon.”

Bucky waved away the offer of food, practically crawled into Tony’s lap until his head was pillowed on Tony’s thigh, arm around Tony’s waist. Absently, he traced a heart shape onto Tony’s knee, over and over again. He didn’t want to talk much, his mouth ached and his words sounded slurred. _Heart, heart_. Over again.  

“Love you, too,” Tony said softly. He petted Bucky’s hair and arm and side, whatever he could reach from that position. “God, I love you, so much.” He brushed a thumb down Bucky’s jaw. “And you were amazing. So good. Thank you, sweetheart. Sorry about that ending.”

Bucky shrugged, awkward. “S… okay.” He managed. “M’okay. Wan’ cu’les.” Damn it, that sounded worse. Mushy. Hopefully Tony could figure it out. Stretching his tongue enough to reach the roof of his mouth for certain sounds was Right Out, for a few hours, at least. He tugged at Tony a little, encouraging him to stretch out and lay down where Bucky could twine around him like a demented octopus, his face pressed against Tony’s chest. He brushed his lips over the scars on Tony’s chest, light and warm.

Tony let Bucky arrange him on the bed, and curled his arm around Bucky’s back, stroking lightly, making Bucky shiver whenever his hand trailed over the half-numbed bruises. “All the cuddles you want, sweetheart.”

Bucky nodded, sleepy, and closed his eyes. Breathing in the warm scent of Tony’s skin, content and warm and safe. Cared for. Tony would wake him in an hour or so, make him eat and drink before his body’s needs overwhelmed him. Took care of him. Tony always took such good care of Bucky. He took one last shuddering deep breath and let sleep claim him.

 


	8. 5 - Bondage, Take 2 (sub!Tony)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: BDSM, Kink Negotiation, safewords, safeword use, risk aware consensual kink, bondage, Dom in a bad headspace, Dom drop, love and trust

_One Hulk, Two Hulk, Red Hulk, Blue Hulk_. Once the stupid refrain had gotten into Bucky’s head -- thanks, Clint -- it refused to leave. The continual looping sing-song reminded Bucky of the weeks when his command words were being implanted the first time; long bouts of pain and mental torture, combined with Sarkisian’s hand leading him out of the darkness.

He wondered, almost curious, really, where they’d found a look-alike for her. Damn woman had popped up in the middle of the rampage of two dangerous and deadly hulks to try to lure the Winter Soldier away with words that didn’t trigger him anymore.

Except they still _hurt_. Like an unhealed wound that someone was poking at; Bucky was bleeding out, inside his own head.

Which meant he dropped the ball, when the plan came to a head. Didn’t manage to turn Blonsky back toward the trap. Barely even managed to get in his way at all, honestly.

And Tony had picked up Bucky’s slack, nearly getting his fool self killed in the process.

What else was new?

_One Hulk, Two Hulk..._

Someone nudged Bucky in the side, dragging his attention sluggishly out of his own head. “Winter Soldier!” Steve snapped. No, no, that was _Captain America_. Steve never called him by his working name, not unless he was in full on command frame of mind.

“Yeah?” Bucky managed. He didn’t raise his head; the space on the quinjet’s deck was endlessly fascinating.

“What the hell happened out there?”

“I fucked up,” Bucky said. “I know. I know, dammit.” _Red Hulk, Blue Hulk..._

“Lay off, Cap,” Tony grumbled. “We handled it.” He stepped closer to Bucky, his still-armored foot appearing at the edge of Bucky’s vision. “Hey, babe, you okay?”

“They know,” Bucky said. She’d gotten away, so thoroughly that Bucky wasn’t even sure he hadn’t fucking _imagined_ her. He shook his head, trying to throw the thoughts out. “I’m… not hurt.” That much was true, at least, even if he was absolutely not fine. Fine was in a different country, on vacation, with a fluffy drink in hand.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, sounding chagrined. “That was a royal clusterfuck, no doubt about it.” He stepped a little closer, gauntleted hand skating down Bucky’s arm lightly. “I’m still all jittery,” he admitted. “Want to skip debrief and work it off?”

“Going to the debrief only when things go well defeats the purpose, Iron Man,” Steve said, still acting like he was in charge. God, that was annoying sometimes. Even when they were on the field, Steve came up with the plan, but more than half the time, the team did whatever the hell they felt like. Most of the time, it worked anyway. The rest of the time… well, everyone was out of sorts.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, managing to get his eyes as high as Tony’s knees before he really couldn’t raise his head any further. Shame, fear, a whole host of other feelings kept his neck bent. “Yeah, let’s skip it.”

Tony’s hand tightened on his shoulder, but Tony was bickering with Steve, voices growing more and more tense. But finally, _finally_ , they were landing, and they’d be off the ‘jet soon enough.

“If you already know what I was thinking,” Tony snapped at Steve, “then I definitely don’t see any need to go to debrief. C’mon, honeybuns, let’s get out of here.”

“Hey, pal,” Steve said, and it was Steve that time, grabbing at Bucky’s arm, “Are you--”

Bucky jerked his arm free. “Lemme alone, Steve, Jesus _Christ_. You can yell at me later.” And Bucky had to stare back at the floor, because Steve had the nerve to look wounded, and Bucky hated those puppy-eyes, even under normal circumstances.

Ug. Which meant Bucky was just going to have to apologize later, and Steve would want to talk it out, and solidify their relationship and whatever buzzwords Steve had picked up from the internet this week.

Bucky didn’t look back, barely took a breath until they’d gotten out of the hangar and were on their way up to the penthouse.

“Right, well, that was awful. Let’s not do that again ever,” Tony said, and he did sound like he was full of adrenaline and nervous energy, even more than usual. He stepped in close, taking advantage of the fact that he was a bit taller than Bucky when he was wearing the armor. “Hey. We’ll work it out of our systems, yeah?”

“Which part are we not doing again, Tony? The part where you almost let a _building_ fall on you in order to make up for my screw up?” Bucky scrubbed both hands over his face, then yanked on his hair. If anything had happened to Tony because Bucky was too lost in his own goddamn head… well, Bucky wasn’t sure what would happen then. His imagination failed. Probably a good thing, given the fact that his throat ached and his eyes stung just thinking about it.

“I was thinking about the part where we let them get close enough to get into your head like that,” Tony said. “The building, I could handle. Them getting their hands on you again... Might as well just rip my heart right out of my chest.”

Oh. _Oh._ Bucky found himself staring at Tony. “She was real, then,” Bucky said. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs. “God, I love you.” The rest of it could wait; the debrief, the fear, the ache in his chest and in his head. Nothing mattered in that moment more than Tony did. Alive and healthy and right there. He reached out, let his fingers brush over the chestplate, over the spot where Tony’s heart was.

Tony put his hand over Bucky’s, holding it against his heart. “Love you, too. She really did fuck with your head, didn’t she?” he said. He leaned in to kiss Bucky, slow and easy and thorough, mapping every part of Bucky’s mouth.

It wasn’t worth talking about. Bucky didn’t want to talk about it. Kissing Tony was a much better use of his mouth than going over bullshit that wouldn’t get better with words. “Uh-huh,” Bucky managed. He probably could pick Tony up while he was wearing the suit, but it wasn’t going to be comfortable. He settled for backing Tony up toward the auto-removal rings. “Get out of this thing before I get tempted t’ take a can opener to you, babe.”

“Oh, is that how it is?” Tony’s mouth curved toward a smirk, and that felt almost right, almost natural, them bantering on their way to the bedroom. Tony stepped into the rings and walked through the removal path, though he kept glancing at Bucky as he went. “You could stand to lose your armor, too, you know.”

“You _like_ my armor,” Bucky teased. There were about a million and a half straps, buttons and heavy-duty velcro closures that held the damn stuff on him. Under the armor, his base mesh-suit was remarkably similar to Tony’s undersuit, except he didn’t need all the high tech wire-connections. By the time he dropped the last piece into an untidy heap, Bucky felt like he’d lost fifty pounds. Light-headed, he staggered before leveling out. Wanting his hands on Tony, to feel that skin, to know that Tony was okay, even if he was probably bruised up and sore. Yep. Soon as Tony turned around to step out of the underflight suit, Bucky saw the bruise across his lower back, another red-purple mark on his thigh, and the fingers on one hand were shaking and swollen.

“Oh, _babydoll_ ,” Bucky said, drawing Tony into a hug. He wanted to be gentle, he meant to be gentle, but Tony was nuzzling at his neck, and they were both still alive and sane and Bucky fastened his mouth on Tony’s throat, sucking the blood to the surface and tonguing the spot frantically.

“Oh, yeah,” Tony breathed, tangling his fingers in Bucky’s hair. “Need you... need you so bad, honey.” He was tugging Bucky toward the bed already. “Want you right up on top of me, so I can feel you all over.”

“Yeah, that’s… exactly what I need,” Bucky said. He all but threw Tony onto the bed, scrambling after him. He wanted… needed…

Tony was so squirmy, eager for it, driving Bucky _wild_. Finally, exasperated and frustrated, Bucky grabbed both of Tony’s wrists and pinned him down, pushing his hands into the mattress and grinding down on Tony’s thigh. “Brat,” he accused Tony and then kissed away every protest, sating himself on Tony’s mouth.

Tony gave up trying to talk and arched up against Bucky’s body, not trying at all to pull his hands free. He moaned into Bucky’s mouth and rolled his spine to strop his cock against Bucky’s hip. “Mmm, yes,” he finally mumbled into a kiss. “Yes, this...”

“Yeah, I gotcha,” Bucky said. He moved, shifted, wanted his mouth on Tony, but every time he tried, Tony went right back to writhing around. Squirming and shifting and probably just as frantic to get his hands on Bucky as Bucky was to touch and tease, but it didn’t seem to matter, only that Bucky wasn’t getting his own way. “Oh, my god, do I have to tie you down t’ get you to hold still?” Bucky demanded.

Tony froze for an instant, and then he broke out into a wide grin, something wild and desperate in his eyes. “Please?”

Bucky had a brief image, etched like glass, of Tony stretched out and helpless, wanting everything Bucky had for him, but only getting what Bucky would allow. “Oh, yes,” Bucky said. He brushed his thumb over Tony’s mouth. “Yeah, okay. That… right. Nothin’ fancy, jus’ gonna spread you out on this bed like a picnic and eat you right up.” He punctuated that by licking a long line up Tony’s chest, from his ribs, over one nipple and all the way to his collarbone.

Tony shuddered, his pupils widening. “Oh yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, no need to make a production of it, just... Yeah, c’mon, let’s go, let’s do this.” He sat up.

“Stay,” Bucky ordered, pushing him back down, a little harder than he probably needed to, but damn, Tony’s whirlwind energy was too much. “I’ll take care of it. Take care of you. Okay?” Bucky felt weird, inside his own skin, like he wanted to scratch at a wound until the blood ran fresh again. He shook it away. Grabbed the toy box under the bed and slid it out, flipping through its contents.

Tony was practically purring aloud as he stretched out on the bed again, flinging his arms and legs out as if to prove his readiness. “Yessir,” he said, “whatever you say.” He turned his head to watch Bucky’s progress, eager and restless.

Padded cuffs. Spreader. Anchor strap. That was simple enough.

“Yeah, okay, this’ll do,” Bucky said. “Gimme those wrists, doll.” Tony did as he was told -- astonishing how willing Tony was to follow orders in the bedroom, and utterly incapable of listening to anyone on the battlefield. It was enough to drive Bucky mad with fear sometimes. Thinking about that wasn’t doing his temper any good, though. He affixed the anchor strap to the discreet metal staple that Tony had attached to the wall -- like something out of an old time dungeon, but shinier. Most of the time, the bed and pillows blocked it from sight, but it was strong enough to keep even Bucky from pulling it free without substantial effort involved. Tony was nothing if not thorough.

Getting Tony’s hands locked in place, Bucky leaned over him to connect the cuffs to the anchor strap. “Comfy?” Bucky asked. He slid down the length of Tony’s body, half laying on him.

Tony wiggled, and he could’ve just been checking to make sure the cuffs weren’t too tight, or that their angle wouldn’t cause circulation problems, but that didn’t require moving his entire body. “Getting comfier by the second,” he said. “Can’t wait for you to have your wicked way with me. Sir.”

Bucky got him into the spreader, legs held open. Tony could squirm a bit, if he wanted to, but he wasn’t going anywhere. “Half tempted,” he said, teasing, “t’ find a vibrator an’ a gag, set you up, and then _go to sleep_.” He snuggled up against Tony’s side, listening to his heart beating, the rise and fall of his chest.

Tony pouted at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Bucky traced circles on Tony’s chest, absently flicking over his nipples as if by accident, keeping the pattern light and random, mapping out every inch of warm skin. Down, to caress Tony’s hip, along his thigh. “I dunno,” he said, “just thinkin’ how desperate that’d get you… lowest possible setting, just enough t’ keep you hard, not enough to get any relief. Every little squirm and wriggle makin’ it shift inside. Hmmm.” One finger, over Tony’s cock, a single line down the underside, and then he moved on, stroking the inside of Tony’s thigh. “Wonder what you’d do, t’ get me to touch you.”

“See, _that_ I believe,” Tony said, squirming more in an utterly futile effort to direct Bucky’s hand. “Torture me, yes. Go to sleep? No. You like to watch me suffer too much.” It came out a little breathless, not as nonchalant as the words were probably intended to convey.

Most of the time, Bucky understood the difference between meanings and implications. Torture. It didn’t-- Bucky knew what Tony would look like if someone (Bucky) did torture him. The Winter Soldier had been used that way before. Pleas didn’t move him, someone else’s pain didn’t bother him. He blinked. What the hell?

No. He didn’t want Tony to _suffer_. Not for real.

“You love it,” Bucky scoffed. He waited; he never had to wait long for this part. Inevitably Tony would protest or mock, or say something. He always had something to say, and as soon as he started, Bucky took Tony’s dick firmly in hand, stroked him relentlessly, like he was racing his way to an orgasm.

“I lo-- Oohhhh, fuck, yes, yessss,” Tony groaned, arching into the touch. “Oh, god, babe, that feels so... so good...” He tipped his head back and let his eyes fall shut, drinking in the sensation with every bit of himself.

“Look at you, you beautiful thing,” Bucky said. He watched until Tony was gasping, and then... stopped. Ran his fingers over Tony’s throat, up his jaw, along his collarbones. “Like that, right. Wanting, but you can’t have it. Not unless I decide you can.”

“Noooo,” Tony whined, though he had to have known it was coming. “No, Bucky, please...” He squirmed, trying to find a way to rub up against Bucky’s body.

“You are so _spoiled_ ,” Bucky accused him. He found Tony’s nipple again, teased it into a hard peak, and then pinched, probably harder than was strictly necessary, enough to remind Tony who was in charge here, enough to--

“Ow!” Tony flinched away from the pain. “And whose fault is that, anyway, hm?”

“ _Mine_ ,” Bucky growled. “I let you get away with too much.” His voice dropped low and he felt his entire body shift into a predatory stance. A part of him, tiny and getting smaller with every passing second, was appalled, concerned. The rest of him was reminded just how gorgeous Tony was when he was hurting, when he was _suffering_ , and wondered how much pain he could take before Tony was absolutely sublime. “You know what they say about _sparing the rod_ …”

Tony blinked a couple of times, then cocked his head curiously. Not remotely afraid, which was its own kind of challenge. “Is that what we’re doing, here?” He shifted his hips, testing the spreader bar’s hold.

It was like a damn itch, right in the middle of his shoulder blades. Like a whip that drove him. He held Tony’s chin like a vise, kissed him like a blow. Sucked all the air out of Tony’s lungs, sampled it, tasted it. By the time he pulled back, Tony’s chest was heaving, struggling to get enough air. “You make me crazy,” Bucky said, and he wasn’t even sure he was exaggerating. He wondered, briefly, if Tony would mind if Bucky backhanded him. Just enough to redden one cheek, to see those eyes flare with fury. Watch him realize just exactly what Tony had done, putting so much trust in Bucky.

That it was a _mistake_.

Tony still hadn’t figured it out. He grinned. “We’ll be crazy together,” he said. “God, I love you.”

Bucky pulled his arm back, and then it was like a bucket of ice water was dumped over his head. “Oh, _Christ_ ,” he said, eyes painfully wide. “Tony…”

Tony blinked rapidly. “Bucky? What is it, honey?”

Bucky stared at Tony for a long moment, wondering if he could recover the moment, the heat and the need without edging all the way off the side of the cliff, but… he was. _Fuck_. He was scared. “Shhhh,” he said, like he might soothe a wild animal, and it wasn’t even Tony he was talking to, but himself. “Hang on. I… Tony, I am in the wrong place for this.” That hurt, admitting it. Was he going to ruin everything by admitting how badly he actually _wanted_ to hurt Tony. And not in the fun way. “I'm calling it, _red_. Give me a minute, I’m going to turn you loose, okay? Please, I just need…” He didn’t even know. But everything he was thinking was wrong. Wrong and dangerous and _bad_.

Tony was frowning now, trying to solve an equation. “It’s okay, honey,” he said softly. “We’ll figure it out. It’s okay.” He twisted again, and huffed. “Right, yeah, let’s get the cuffs off, because I need to put my hands on you.”

It took more willpower than Bucky realized he actually had, but he managed to not throw the keys across the room, to keep Tony right where he was, subject to Bucky’s will and want. He swallowed down a lump in his throat somewhat larger than a grapefruit, and unlocked the cuffs. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice harsh, rasping. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey,” Tony said. He sat up as soon as the cuffs were unlocked, curling one hand around Bucky’s neck. “Honey, talk to me, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know. I… I don’t feel right.” He struggled with it. “You know, like when you’ve been on a boat, or roller skates or something, for a while, and then you’re not, but your body still feels like… the ground should be movin’ _differently_?”

“Sure,” Tony agreed. “Always takes me a minute to realize I’m back on the ground after I’ve been flying.” His head cocked to the side. “She fucked you up worse than you thought, huh?”

“She had my words,” Bucky said. “She said them. And I know, I know, I know, I know, I know it. They can’t… hurt me anymore. But… I don’t know. I feel _wrong_. Like I should belong to her, that I should have… and then. Steve and you. And. I’m in a bad place, Tony, and I’m afraid I’m gonna hurt you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Tony said, with utter confidence. “But you tell me what you need, right now, to feel safe. To know you’re going to keep me safe.”

“How th’ hell do you trust me so much, Tony?” Bucky’s voice was doing weird things on him, going high and thin.

“Because I’ve never had a reason not to, sweetheart.”

“You shouldn’t,” Bucky whined, wanting to reach out for Tony, wanting to touch, stroke, bury his face against the safety of Tony’s throat, and not quite daring to do any of it. “I… I don’t know how t’ trust _myself_. An’ I am too goddamn selfish to let go of you.”

“Well, thank god for that,” Tony said. He pulled Bucky closer and kissed him, gentle and careful. “If you were going to do something to hurt me, you’d have already done it. You’re just in a bad headspace. I get that. So do you want to call it quits and just cuddle, or do you want to try something else?” He ducked his head to catch Bucky’s eye. “If it matters, I vote for trying something else. But it’s your call.”

_If it matters_ \-- “Of course it matters, Tony,” Bucky said. Tony was closer, and Bucky couldn’t resist the siren’s call of that golden skin, so soft and soothing under his fingertips. He stroked a line down Tony’s arm. “You matter. You matter so goddamn much…” Bucky took a deep, steadying breath. “Tell me, just… one thing that you want, one thing you want me to do to you, or something you want to do to me, and… I’ll do that, okay? Just… a little. One step at a time, okay?”

“Okay,” Tony said. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he looked Bucky over. “I think...” He leaned over to unbuckle the straps holding his legs on the spreader bar, then kicked it onto the floor. “I want you to lie down and put your hands over your head, and let me blow you.”

Bucky almost protested; somehow it didn’t seem fair that Tony was going to give, again, always, always with the giving. It hurt, sometimes, how much Tony gave, but… well, damn it, he’d said that was what he wanted, didn’t he? And Bucky… did want it. He snapped his mouth shut, shifted around on the bed until he was on his back. Reached up and grabbed the underside of the headboard to hold on. “Okay, baby. Okay.”

Tony looked inordinately pleased. “Good, perfect.” He settled between Bucky’s thighs, just as wriggly and squirmy as he’d been at the start of the evening. “No touching,” he warned. “If you let go of that headboard, I stop.”

Bucky couldn't help the whine that came out of his throat. His self control was already shot. But… well at least he wasn't going to hurt Tony if he fucked it up again. Probably.

Tony slithered a little further down and didn’t bother with preliminaries or teasing at all, just opened his mouth and sucked Bucky’s cock in until it was bumping up against the back of Tony’s mouth, nudging at the soft flesh of his throat.

“ _Jesus_ , Tony,” Bucky gasped, bringing his knees up involuntarily before spreading his legs again. Felt good. Crazy amounts of good, like he was being reprimanded, almost _punished_ for trying to deny any of it. He went from biting his lip to moaning wantonly in minutes. Trying desperately hard not to move, not to fuck up into Tony’s throat.  Not to do _anything_ that would make Tony stop.

Tony hummed in response to Bucky’s moaning, which only made him need to moan _louder_ , the vibrations traveling straight down his cock into his balls. He kept sucking and sliding his tongue around, and one hand made its way along the inside of Bucky’s thigh until Tony was pressing lightly at his perineum, all but demanding that Bucky come as quickly as possible.

“Oh… oh my god, baby,” Bucky gasped. Arched up, hips rocking, chasing that sensation. His hands tightened on the bedframe, which creaked but held. The universe narrowed to two critical points of contact; Bucky’s grip on the headboard and the wet inferno of Tony’s mouth. “Tony… Oh, baby, ‘m so close.”

Tony kept going for another moment, just until Bucky’s toes started to curl and his whole body tightened in anticipation-- and then he pulled away, licking at his lips with all the satisfaction of a cat with cream on its whiskers. “Wouldn’t want you to feel cheated,” he said innocently.

His fingers loosened on the bedframe, needing Tony’s mouth, hands, something. _Anything_. But he happened to look up and happened to notice how very closely Tony was watching him.

Not, Bucky thought, because Tony thought Bucky couldn't be trusted, but to prove that he could be.

Bucky shuddered all over, tucked his face against his upper arm, and made some sound, a single desperate needy noise.

But he didn't let go.

Tony smiled and crawled up the bed to kiss him, fierce and hard and hot, plundering Bucky’s mouth possessively. “Good,” he said, kissing Bucky again and again. “So good.” He nuzzled at Bucky’s neck, sucking up a hickey before he sat back up. “So that was one thing I wanted. Do I get to keep going, or is it your turn to pick?”

Bucky glanced up at his hands, still white-knuckled on the headboard, then raised an eyebrow at Tony. “I c’n let go, now?” When Tony nodded, Bucky sat up, cupped the back of Tony’s neck, so gentle, and kissed him, light and sweet and casual. “I… I want you t’ sit on my lap, an’ grind up on me, while I play with your nipples. Can we do that, would that… would that be good, baby?” He loved Tony’s nipples, round and sensitive and peachy-pink.

“We can absolutely do that,” Tony said. He carefully rearranged himself, trailing light fingers over Bucky’s cock by “accident” as he moved, until he was straddling Bucky’s lap. It lined up their cocks together and Tony rocked his hips to press into Bucky’s body. “Yeah, that feels nice,” he sighed. “Come on and touch me, sweetheart. Want to feel you on me.”

“Perfect,” Bucky murmured. It put Tony right where Bucky wanted him. He barely had to tip his mouth to capture that sensitive little nub of skin, flicking his tongue over it. Circling the areola as it pebbled up under his mouth. He licked, nibbled, teased at Tony’s chest. Moved to one side and sucked a hickey right next to it, brilliant red.

He couldn’t help bouncing a little, thrusting up at Tony’s dick, feeling them rub together. Too light, almost, but God, Tony was so warm, and his skin was so soft. It felt amazing, sliding against him, and he did it again, and again, rutting up, moaning as he did so.

Stretched up and licked at Tony’s collarbone, while his fingers continued to flick and rub at the one nipple, just the one side, so Tony was squirming in his lap, wriggling there, and now, now it was okay, now it was good, he wanted that friction, that barely-there and back again sensation of Tony practically dancing with anticipation.

He reached up, traced the line of Tony’s lower lip with his metal hand. He couldn’t really feel it, not the way he could with his right hand, just pressure, the sensor that indicated heat pinging, enough that he could register Tony’s body temperature. He couldn’t feel Tony’s breath on his knuckles, or the wet of his tongue when Tony sucked the tip of his finger in. But that was okay. It still got him, like a shiver of steel through his belly, that Tony ever even wanted to touch those metal fingers, that he didn’t shy away from it at all, in fact craved it just as much as anything else. It was a miracle that Tony wanted _all of him_.

And that Bucky wanted to give all of himself.

Tony sucked on the tip of Bucky’s finger for a moment, moaning and sighing around it with each easy slide of their bodies together, each flick against his nipple. “God, you make me feel so good, honey,” he groaned, and tipped his head for a kiss. “Want to ride you, want to feel you in me. Yeah?” He arched into Bucky’s touch and rubbed up a little harder, tempting.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, that sounded wonderful, perfect. Let Tony take control of their love-making, that was… “Yeah, okay. You… uh, want me to get you ready, baby?”

“Yeah, you do that,” Tony agreed. “I’m just going to hang out here and distract you, hmm.” He nosed into Bucky’s neck and bit down a little, just enough to register as a sharp jolt.

Well, it gave him a great excuse to get his hands on Tony’s ass, at least. He slid both hands down Tony’s back, pulling him closer, rubbing at sore muscles, the knots he found there on his way down. Grabbed a handful of Tony’s ass and massaged that, as well. God, Tony had the world’s best ass, round and perky and just… exactly perfect. He could stare at it, touch it, all day.

Tony squirmed into the touch, smug -- he knew exactly how much Bucky loved his ass -- then leaned past Bucky long enough to grab the lube off the nightstand and toss it where Bucky could grab it. “Get to work, soldier.”

“Patience is a virtue,” Bucky sing-songed, but he wasn’t doing much better, really. Wanted Tony’s heat and sweetness clamped down on him. He slicked his hand, caught Tony giving him a smug, self-satisfied look, and cheated. A bit. Ran his lube-slicked hand down Tony’s cock, stroked him a few times until he was nice and slippery, then stroked them both together, adding a squeeze as he pushed up into it.

“Uh-huh, baby, I’m workin’ on it.” That was a blatant lie, as rubbing up against Tony when they were both wet, that perfect, easy glide, was _almost_ good enough to give up the idea of getting in Tony at all.

“Can’t come ‘til you’re in me,” Tony decided all at once, though he was thrusting up into Bucky’s hand with a shiver of pleasure. He wound his arms around Bucky’s neck and kissed Bucky again, teeth scraping against Bucky’s lower lip.

“Z’at so, honey?” Bucky twisted his wrist a little, knowing how much Tony liked that extra zing in it, then… “Well, if you insist.” He got his fingertips wet again, reached around. He wasn’t going to be able to do much aside from tease the hell out of Tony at that angle, but that was okay, too. Trailed his fingers down Tony’s crack, then back up to the little triangle of skin at the base of his spine where all Tony’s shivers seemed to collect.

Put his left hand on Tony’s cheek and spread him, just a little, just enough, keeping his palm still so the plates didn’t bite. “I gotcha, baby,” he said. Circled the entrance to Tony’s body in soft, soothing brushes.

Tony groaned and pushed back into the touch, eyelids fluttering shut. “Yes...” He dropped his forehead to Bucky’s shoulder for a moment. “More, Bucky, please...”

More lube on his fingers, and he gripped Tony’s ass with both hands, spreading his cheeks wide. Stretched out both index fingers, met and rubbed at Tony’s hole, half circles with each fingertip, breaching him with his flesh finger, tugging light at the rim, and then going back to teasing, almost playing tiddlywinks, as it were. “God, you’re so beautiful, Tony, I…” He leaned his forehead against Tony’s, breathing in the same air that Tony was breathing out, listening to the soft, urgent noises that Tony was making, feeling the way their heartbeats had matched up.

“Love you, sweetheart,” Tony panted. His movement was in sync with Bucky’s, now, pushing into each little caress and touch, begging wordlessly. His breath spilled hot over Bucky’s skin, and he whined desperately. “C’mon, please, just...” He shuddered and rolled his hips, sliding their cocks together again, flooding Bucky with heat.

“Lift up, baby,” Bucky told him, brushing his hand over the head of Tony’s dick, then past it, cupped his balls, then further back, breaching Tony from the other direction. One knuckle in, twisted back and forth in short, eager movements. “There you are, I…” More lube, and then he was working Tony from both sides, teasing at his rim with the metal fingers and tugging him open with his right hand. Had Tony practically crawling over his shoulder in an effort to get closer, give him more room to work.

“Oh, god, deeper,” Tony demanded, or possibly begged. “Deeper, more, I need you in me, honey, I need...” He was already straining, hair starting to grow damp at the temples from sweat. “ _More_.”

Two fingers, and Bucky scissored them out, stretching Tony through the burn, and then rotated his wrist, back and forth, back… there, there, he could push in further. More lube, and he rubbed Tony’s asscheek with his left hand, working the bigger muscles. Pushed his fingers up, and forward, aiming for Tony’s navel, until he found what he was looking for, that little soft, sweet spot inside. Stroked at Tony’s prostate, light and teasing. “No coming, until I’m inside you,” he reminded, when Tony wailed with need.

“Nnnngggg, I meant _you_ ,” Tony complained. “You jer-- _oh_ , god...” He reached down between them and slid his fingers over Bucky’s cock. “Come on, don’t you want to get this in me?”

He did. Oh, god, he did. “I dunno,” he said. “This is kinda nice, too. How long do you think I c’n keep doing this and watching you bounce around? God, you’re so perfect, Tony, I don’t… I don’t ever want anything else, but you.” He made that sweet, tormenting come-hither gesture, moving his fingers in time with Tony’s gasps. Tony was shaking, sweating profusely, when Bucky finally gave him three, working him all the way open. “There you go, baby, that’s so good. You’re so perfect.” He kissed Tony’s open mouth, quick and hot, and slowly pulled his fingers out.

Tony whimpered at the loss. “Ready, I’m _ready_ ,” he chanted, lining himself up over Bucky’s lap, wiggling his ass like a cat about to pounce. “ _So_ fucking ready...” He sank down onto Bucky’s cock, panting and groaning over every slow inch. “Nng, that’s... that’s good. That good for you too, honey? Feeling it?”

Bucky nodded, frantically. “Yeah, yeah, you’re just right,” he told Tony earnestly. Helped himself to a double handful of Tony’s ass, squeezing and running his hands over those perky cheeks, teasing at the tender curve where his ass met his thighs. Brushed a finger around the spot where they were joined together, a double-tease, drawing a shudder out of his own spine. He wanted to grab onto Tony’s shoulders, yank him down until Bucky was fully sheathed in Tony’s heat, but didn’t. Instead, he continued to play with Tony’s ass, easing his way. Gave him a couple of light, playful swats, like he was keeping time on a drum, feeling those vibrations deep inside Tony’s body.

“Oh, _fuck_.” Tony’s hands clenched on Bucky’s shoulders. “Fuck, that’s...” He slid deeper, until Bucky was fully sheathed in that perfect ass. “Oh, that’s good, that’s...” He paused, panting, waiting for his body to finish adjusting. He pushed his face into Bucky’s neck. “Oh god, honey, every time, it’s like...” He shuddered, and that did interesting things to the way their bodies were joined. “Okay. Okay.” Tony reset his hold on Bucky’s shoulders and lifted halfway off before sinking slowly back down. “Yeah. You ready, babe?”

“Oh, God, _yes_ ,” Bucky said, fervently, feeling Tony’s heat clench around him. Tight and slick and so, so warm, it was utterly perfect. Wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and held on for dear life. Rocked backward, and then up, testing Tony’s reactions.

Tony _wailed_ , and held onto Bucky tighter, his next breath spilling out in a litany of begging and cursing sprinkled liberally with endearments. Bucky rocked back again, and Tony’s muscles flexed, lifting himself further still off Bucky’s cock, and then slamming himself back down when Bucky rocked up. His breath stuttered as he moaned. “Yes, like that, yes yes yes, Bucky, baby, sweetheart, more more more...”

Threaded his fingers through Tony’s hair, capturing his mouth, Bucky plunged his tongue between Tony’s lips, matching time with their frantic breathing, the movement of Tony’s hips against his, until every nerve ending in his body was on fire, moving desperately, urgently, toward the same goal. Chasing release, his, Tony’s, it didn’t even matter. Used his grip on Tony’s ass to yank them even closer, so each of Bucky’s thrusts rubbed Tony’s dick against Bucky’s stomach.

“I got you, I got you, baby,” he whispered, like a prayer, in between kisses, nonsense words and phrases as he licked at Tony’s mouth, nipped his lower lip. “Please baby, please, come on, I...”

Tony whined and ground against Bucky’s stomach harder, which made his body shift in interesting ways. “Yeah,” he panted, “almost... almost there...” Another dozen strokes and his breath began to hitch and stutter. “Bucky, Bucky, I...”

“That’s good, yeah, just… oh, _Tony_ ,” Bucky cried, thrusting up, reaching, straining, and then Tony shifted exactly right, squeezed down at the perfect time, so sweet, so good. Bucky threw his head back, practically yanking air into his lungs. His toes curled hard, legs straining with it, and then, wave upon wave of delicious heat flowed over him in ripples. “Oh, god…”

Tony shuddered. “Bucky--!” Heat flooded the space between them as Tony came. He rocked into it, stroking through it in jerky, gasping motions, hands clenching on Bucky’s shoulders. “Oh god, honey, come for me now, I need to feel you...”

Bucky yanked Tony down on him, fucking up into that sweet, luscious heat, hard enough to bruise, but he couldn’t stop, taking, taking as much as Tony would give him. Incoherent with pleasure, Bucky keened. Fervid, passionate noises came out of his mouth, he couldn’t stop kissing Tony, couldn’t, wouldn’t stop touching him, and then, everything shuddered and shook to pieces around him. “Yes. Oh, oh, Tony, baby, I…” Heat and more heat, and then -- “Yes!” Found that place he was seeking, let euphoria take him.

He came back to himself, rocking Tony very gently, still sheathed inside him, his head tucked up against Tony’s chest, making a content, humming sort of sound while Tony panted for breath, his hands soothing and limp against Bucky’s shoulders.

“Mmm,” Tony managed, and nuzzled against the side of Bucky’s head until he relented and turned his head enough for Tony to kiss him. “Mmm. Feeling a little better?”

“ _Troublemaker_ ,” Bucky accused Tony, fondly. Kissed the tip of his nose. “Y’know I am.”

“Mission accomplished,” Tony said, pleased and smug and bratty. “ _And_ we got to skip debrief.”

Bucky let himself slouch down until they were mostly laying down, Tony sprawled across his chest. “Thank you,” he said, knowing Tony was often utterly incapable of being serious, but needing to say it anyway.

Tony wriggled down into Bucky’s arms, getting comfortable. “Anytime, honeybunch.”

 


	9. +1 - Scene 1 Reprise (Bondage, sub!Tony)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: BDSM, non-existent refractory period, Dom/sub, oral sex, anal sex, bondage, risk aware consensual kink, aftercare, giving orders, flogging, subspace, love and trust

As soon as the plane touched down, Tony was on his phone, texting Bucky. _Home in an hour. Could use some stress relief if you’re up to it._

It had been a long and frustrating trip, made worse by the appearance of not one but two of his biggest competitors (not that anyone could actually _compete_ with Stark Industries, but there were a few companies that tried to sell the lie that they could, and were occasionally successful by dint of attractively -- and unrealistically -- lower prices). After three weeks of negotiations, all Tony wanted was to eat his weight in unhealthy junk food, change into old, worn clothes that had never seen the inside of a tailor’s shop, and let his beautiful, inventive boyfriend drag him out of his skull for a while, then pound him into the mattress.

Tony's phone buzzed.

_Can’t wait. Steve’s been dragging me on his and Sam’s stupid morning jogs, since they wont wake you up._

_Stress relief like pizza n dumb movies, or more like_

A picture popped up on Tony’s phone, one side of a silver, gleaming set of handcuffs, two twists of hot-rod red rope, and the leather bridle strap.

_I’ll take what’s behind Door #2, Monty._

Tony looked at the picture again and felt his innards twist and tighten with anticipation. That damn strap had _hurt_. It would be _perfect_.

_I know u. Stp by the kitchen before you come up. Protein shake and a shot of espresso._

A moment later Tony got a second picture; Bucky’s shiny silver palm, and resting in it was a black leather blindfold and the keys to the cuffs on their keychain.

_Can't wait._

And just like that, half the tension melted right out of Tony’s body. He didn’t have to stand up to everyone in the room and argue for his company. He didn’t have to be the guy in charge, the smartest man in the room, or the shrewd businessman. He could just be _Tony_. He could trust Bucky to tell him what to do, because Bucky wanted what was best for Tony, wanted Tony to feel good.

Tony closed his eyes and sighed, letting a little more of the tightness slide out of his shoulders and back. He was Bucky’s, and he didn’t have to worry about anything else.

Bucky wanted him to eat -- well, consume some calories, at least -- before they started, and that was probably smart, because Tony’s sense of time was all twisted to hell and he wasn’t sure when he’d last eaten. Dinner the night before, maybe? He’d had a soda on the flight, but that wasn’t enough to get him through a scene.

Bucky was already taking care of him, and he hadn’t even gotten home yet. Yeah, this was the best idea.

When Tony finally got to the Tower, it was tempting to thumb the button for the penthouse and go straight up, but there was a sticky note covering the penthouse button that read, “Don’t” in Bucky’s writing.

Tony grinned and punched the button for the communal floor instead, pocketing the note.

In the kitchen, Bucky had obviously been very busy; there was a place at the table laid out for Tony. An empty glass for his shake, set above a covered plate that held a few tidbits. A tiny round of cheese, a handful of crackers, two lemon petit four cakes, and a small dish of grapes, blueberries and one strawberry. Two multivitamins next to the plate and some juice to wash that down with. His espresso cup, which was empty, but the machine had been set up already and all he needed to do was twist, press the steamer button, and _voila_ , coffee.

Next to his plate was a piece of paper and a pencil. A sticky note on top of that read, “relax, baby. Do the sudoku while you eat. Forget all about the conference. I love you. Also, I’m watching.”

That made Tony feel warm all over. How had he managed to land such a thoughtful boyfriend? He made the espresso and sipped it while he was loading protein powder and milk into the blender for his shake. The caffeine washed through his system like a wave of relief, and he left the empty cup in the sink before he poured his shake and sat at the table.

He looked up at the nearest of JARVIS’ cameras and blew it a kiss, then went to work on the puzzle while he absently ate and drank. Bucky’d pulled one of the “nearly impossible” ones just so it would give him a little challenge and last long enough for him to finish eating.

It was tempting to bolt the food down and then beeline for the penthouse -- he’d _missed_ Bucky, damn it -- but the puzzle caught his tired attention and forced him to slow down a little. Which was, no doubt, what Bucky had planned. It wasn’t enough to shut the rest of his brain _off_ , but it was a gentle pump of the brakes.

By the time he’d finished solving it, there was only a swallow of the shake and a couple of grapes left on the plate. He downed the rest of the shake but left the grapes, dropped his dishes into the sink, and then made his way to the stairs.

The final flight of stairs between the main part of the building and the penthouse where he lived were lined with plush, padded carpet. Some interior decorator’s idea, no doubt. Next to the first step, a sticky note instructed. “Shoes and socks off. Tuck your socks into your shoes, carry them in your left hand. Walk up the stairs and stop inside the door.”

That was... oddly specific, but the very precision of it made a thrill slide down Tony’s spine. He wondered briefly what would happen if he carried them in his right hand, or took off his shoes but not his socks. But he’d asked for this, for Bucky to take over. He shouldn’t be acting the brat so quickly. Bucky deserved better. Tony wanted to  _be_ better, for Bucky.

He sat on the stairs to take off his shoes and socks, arranging them the way the note specified. The plush carpet felt good under his bare feet as he climbed the last flight. He pushed through the door into the penthouse and then stopped, just as the note had said, but he couldn’t resist looking around, hoping to see Bucky waiting for him.

The lights were dimmed, the room lit mostly from a few candles that flickered, throwing shadows everywhere. The darkness in the room was just enough different from the landing that it took Tony a few passes, glancing over the room, to find Bucky, leaning against the wall. He was dressed in his characteristic dark colors, but when he stepped forward, the outfit was new.

Black leather pants with a half dozen entirely unnecessary zippers and straps that criss-crossed Bucky’s long legs, paired with a tank top made from microfiber, with a mesh panel right through the middle that showed off Bucky’s not unimpressive chest.

“Tony,” he said, voice a deep rumble. “Good. Well done. Put your shoes down, take off your jacket and tie. Your collar’s on the coffee table.”

The praise felt good already, even if he hadn’t actually done much of anything to earn it, yet. Tony set down the shoes and let himself appreciate the way those slightly ridiculous pants framed Bucky’s thighs as he unbuttoned his jacket and loosened his tie. When he was holding both, he started to walk toward the coffee table, but hesitated, swaying on his feet as he played back Bucky’s words.

He _could_ just walk over there, he thought, obeying the implied instruction. But Bucky liked to play games of precision sometimes, and Tony... Tony found himself _wanting_ to be good, wanting to earn more praise, wanting to make Bucky pleased and proud. He caught his balance and stayed put, holding up the clothes by way of demonstration. “May I have my collar, sir, please?”

“Look at you,” Bucky breathed. “Very sweet. Yes, you may, darling. Put your jacket on the chair, tie in the pocket. Kneel by the table and I’ll come put it on you.”

_Yes_. A thrill of having guessed correctly, of having done the right thing, the _good_ thing. Tony was not usually particularly careful with his clothes, shedding them wherever they happened to fall, but for Bucky, he carefully rolled the tie and put it in the jacket pocket, and folded the jacket over the back of the chair before sinking carefully to his knees and sitting back on his heels. He folded his arms behind him, in the small of his back, and looked up at Bucky with a dawning sense of love and awe.

Bucky moved like a dancer, quick and graceful, the tight pants clinging to his thighs. He dropped into a catcher’s squat in front of Tony. “You are so lovely,” he told Tony very seriously. “And very, very good. Do you want a reward now, or save it up for a bigger one, later?” He picked up Tony’s collar and threaded it through his hand, checking the leather for wear.

“I want-- I want a kiss,” Tony said. “I don’t know if that counts as a reward, but I’ve been _dreaming_ about kissing you for days. Missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” Bucky said, and his voice dropped out of the low, whiskey-rough Dom tones that he was using into something warmer, more intimate, and innately sexier. “So much.” He fit the collar around Tony’s neck, fastened it in place. Checked the fit, a two-finger gap, then used the D-ring on it to draw Tony in.

The touch of Bucky’s mouth was like water after a trek across the desert, and Tony would know. Perfect, absolute relief, followed by the desire to sate himself on it. Warm lips molded against Tony’s, the flicker of his tongue as Bucky licked out, tasted Tony’s bottom lip. A soft, almost soothing invasion of his mouth, slow, but thorough.

“Glad you’re back, honey,” Bucky said when he finally let go of Tony’s collar and slid backward a few inches, letting cool air rush between them.

Tony sighed happily. “Glad to be back. And getting moreso. Sir.” He grinned, just a little cheeky.

Bucky ran a thumb down the side of Tony’s face, along his bottom lip. “Love you, so much,” he said. “Before we get all the way started, tell me what you need, what you want, and what you’d like to have. You get three picks.”

Tony considered it. “Need to get out of my head,” he said, “so probably a good solid spanking unless you’ve got another method in mind. Can’t say I _want_ the bridle strap, but it would get the job done about as efficiently as anything. I _want_ you to fuck me, when I’m floating high. And I’d like it if you used the cuffs, since you teased them at me.” He considered it some more, then shrugged and nodded. “Been too long for me to want to do anything complicated. Just want you to help me out of my head for a while.”

“A’ight, baby,” Bucky said. He leaned in, grabbed the collar again, and yanked Tony in for another kiss, this one fierce and dirty and hard, forcing his way into Tony’s mouth, keeping him right where Bucky wanted him, the collar restricting his movements. “So… rules. You call me sir. You don’t do anything -- I don’t want you to so much as scratch your nose -- without permission. An’ keep your head down. I don’t wanna see those eyes until I tell you. Nod if you understand me, baby.”

Tony nodded quickly, focusing on the floor in front of his knees. “Does that mean no talking, too, sir?”

“Well,” Bucky drawled, “you can ask _permission_ t’ talk. Or answer questions. Got it?”

Tony took a breath, and another, centering himself. Bucky didn’t often restrict his talking, when they did this. It was _hard_ , not talking. But that effort made it easier to slip into the right headspace. “Yes, sir,” he agreed, and closed his lips on the immediate quip that tried to slide through.

“Good boy,” Bucky told him. He ran a hand through Tony’s hair, petting him and stroking down the back of Tony’s neck. “I’m gonna take good care of you. Give you everything you need, because you’re so good for me. But first, need t’ do something for myself.” Bucky nudged him with his foot. “Scooch on over a bit, want you kneelin’ right here between my feet. Then put your forehead all th’ way down, want you with your nose on the carpet.” Bucky stood up for a second, and Tony distinctly heard the sound of a zipper coming down.

He shivered a little at that sound and his cock twitched a little in sheer pavlovian response, and he wanted to protest, a little, that Bucky should be using him for the purpose. But Bucky had given Tony his orders, and he wasn’t going to break the rules _this_ early, not that easily. He shuffled over and bent into position. He grunted a little as he nearly tipped off-balance -- it wasn’t easy, with his hands still tucked in the small of his back. He recovered and managed to rest his forehead against the floor, his eyes closed.

Bucky sat back down, snuggling into the sofa, his knees spread, feet bracketing Tony’s arms. It didn’t take him very long, he certainly wasn’t being subtle about it, and the soft sound of Bucky’s palm against his own dick, _paf paf paf,_ was instantly recognizable. “Thought ‘bout you, every night you were gone. Hard t’ sleep, with missing you so much, an’ knowing you’re on th’ other side of the planet, practically. Too far t’ reach you.” He stopped talking for a minute, and a low, needy sound slipped out from between Bucky’s lips. “Thinkin’. Thinkin’ about you all th’ time. Wantin’ you.”

Tony almost answered, then caught himself, biting his lip so he’d remember not to talk. But god, he wanted to. Wanted to tell Bucky how he’d barely slept, how the luxurious guest apartment had seemed too quiet, too empty, too cold without Bucky there. Wanted to tell Bucky how much he’d looked forward to their infrequent calls, jerked off to the thought of Bucky covering him, surrounding him, touching him... Tony shivered, thinking about it and listening to Bucky over him now, that low, rumbling voice a counterpoint to the sound of flesh on flesh.

“Kep’ thinking about what I wanted t’ do with you,” Bucky said, each word drawing out as he moved, shifted. Tony watched as Bucky flexed his feet, going up on his toes for a moment, a long, strangled groan coming out of his throat. “Wanted t’ do _to_ you. Woke up hard, an’ achin’ and reaching for you, but you weren’t there.” His hand was moving faster, jolts skating down his legs, his voice breathy.

Tony wanted to hear all of those thoughts, all of those things. Wanted to do them all, if they made Bucky’s breath catch like that. Tony wanted to know what Bucky was thinking, when he thought about Tony. Breath coming faster, cock swelling and firming, Tony bit his lip harder and tried not to rock forward against Bucky’s legs, seeking that warmth of touch. Bucky’s breath caught again, and warm wet spilled over Tony’s back, making his shirt damp and dripping onto his neck. The tiny part of him that thought it was a little gross was completely swamped by the larger part that purred at being marked and claimed, even without an audience to see it.

“So pretty, baby,” Bucky mused. He was panting for air, shuddering on the sofa. “Mine, my boy, yeah. That’s what you are. An’ I take care of what’s mine.” Bucky flumped back on the sofa, wiggled around a bit as if getting comfortable. His arm flexed, the servos making their signature hum and rattle. Plates slid together with clicks and whirrs, followed by a soft, wet sound. What… the hell?

It was a test, it was some kind of test, obviously. Bucky was trying to tempt him to look without permission and if he kept it up too much longer, that was exactly what was going to happen, because Tony could not for the life of him figure out what Bucky was doing to make that noise, and it was going to drive him mad. This was _not_ getting him out of his head, damn it. If anything, it was driving him further in, as scenario after scenario flickered through his thoughts. Tony chewed on his lip some more -- he’d be tasting blood soon -- and huffed out his breath in frustration.

“A’ight, baby,” Bucky said, finally, relenting. “Let’s see if we can’t help you out. You’re fightin’ it, I can tell. You c’n take off your shirt, clean yourself up. Go rinse it out in th’ sink, so it doesn’t stain, an’ come meet me in the bedroom. Oh, an’ Tony?”

“Sir?” Tony paused as he was straightening up, glancing up for a second before remembering he was supposed to keep his head down.

“Stay on your knees, honey. I like lookin’ at your ass.” Tony could _hear_ the smug smirk in Bucky’s tone, could feel the weight of Bucky’s stare, lewd and possessive.

That shot through him with heat, though it wasn’t anything like a surprise that Bucky liked his ass. Bucky rather eloquently appreciated Tony’s ass on a regular basis. He nodded. “Yes, sir.” He thought that was allowed. Probably. Well, unless Bucky was _looking_ for an excuse to punish him. But that could be fun, too. Tony gave up trying to guess and crawled toward the kitchen, where the nearest sink was, letting his hips sway maybe a little more than absolutely necessary.

He couldn’t reach the sink from his knees, not even kneeling up, but by that point, Bucky had probably stopped watching and gone to the bedroom to set up. He stripped off the shirt and used it to wipe the smear of come off his neck before rinsing it out. He was thorough -- Bucky had proven early on that inspections were not out of the question -- but quick. He left the shirt draped over the side of the sink and dropped back to his knees at the doorway to crawl to the bedroom.

When Tony got inside the bedroom, the lights were on, brightness turned all the way up. After the dimness of the rest of the penthouse, it was a little shocking and disorienting. Bucky’d dragged the bench out into the middle of the room, with its modified support bar, extra padding and the dip in the center to keep pressure off Tony’s chest. A secondary adaptation, a kneeling bar for longer sessions, hosted a few tools; the two-sided paddle, the flogger, and a crop.

“Hey baby,” Bucky said. He dropped into a squat, running his hand down Tony’s spine and back, along his ribs, petting him. “Empty your pockets, put your stuff next to the door. Then I want you t’ stand up, an’ bend over, grab your calves. Gonna give you a few maintenance spanks, remind you who you belong to.”

Tony took out his phone and his wallet and a couple of stray business cards that were still in his pockets and set everything down. _Head down_ , he reminded himself, and climbed to his feet. Holding his calves, that was a position that he couldn't maintain for too long -- it made the blood rush to his head. But a few smacks, he could hold out long enough for that. He turned his back to Bucky and bent over, and tried not to tighten up in anticipation.

There had to be some sort of explanation for how Bucky could move so soundlessly, barely even moving the air around him, something that could be written down and studied, and perhaps, someday, countered. But in the meanwhile, Tony was going to have to resign himself to being surprised, every single time it happened.

And there was that goddamn bridle strap; no wonder it hadn’t been laid out on the bench to draw out the nerves and anticipation while Tony got to look at the tools Bucky was planning to use on him. Bucky had been _holding_ it. Which Tony hadn’t seen because he wasn’t supposed to look up, damn it.

The strap came down on Tony’s ass, vaguely cushioned by his trousers and boxers underneath, but still, fierce and fiery. And other F words.

Tony couldn’t hold back the yelp of surprise and pain, and only barely managed to keep hold of his legs.

Bucky ran the metal hand over Tony’s ass, squeezing right where the strap landed. “Careful there, baby,” Bucky said. “I don’t want you t’ fall. Bet that hurts. Yeah, I can almost see it smokin’, right through your pants. Wonder if that’s good enough for ya. Or maybe you want me t’ peel your pants down around your thighs and lay into that bare skin. Just like you’re back in boarding school, punished not so much for bein’ bad, but just because the headmaster could.”

Tony shivered and whimpered, but he pushed into the touch, not quite wanting the burn to fade away so quickly. “Please, sir,” he whispered.

“Oh, _baby_ ,” Bucky said, his voice sounding almost sad. “You forgot to ask permission to speak.” He took a step back and the strap came down again, harder, just on his left cheek, and before he could even gasp in a breath to cry out, Bucky flipped the strap and came down on the other side, a brilliant flare of agony, like Bucky had drawn in inverted V across his ass with acid.

Tony keened and panted; _fuck_ , that hurt. But for just an instant, right after impact, the pain washed everything else out of his skull, and he _needed_ it. He shifted a little, widening his stance for better balance, and pushed his ass back at Bucky, begging and taunting.

“Straighten up,” Bucky barked. “Look at me.” He was running the strap through his hand, thoughtfully. “Who are you?”

What the hell kind of question was that? There was a dozen or more answers, any of which might be correct. What did Bucky want him to say? “You know who I am,” he said, because being flippant to cover confusion was ingrained into him, as instinctive as breathing.

“True,” Bucky said, his eyebrows going up. “ _Sir_.” That was spoken with extreme gentleness, at complete odds with the sting along Tony’s ass. “ _I_ know who you are. I’m wondering, however, if _you_ do. Who are you?” And he punctuated that with another snap of the strap, along Tony’s thigh, and that was, god, that was breathtakingly _worse_ , against the tight muscle.

Tony hissed and squirmed a little. “I’m Tony Stark,” he tried, through gritted teeth, and this time remembered to add, “Sir.”

“Hmm,” Bucky said, unimpressed. “It’s a good enough _name_ , I suppose. Gives you something to sign at the bottom of a contract. Who are you, under that, Tony Stark? Who are you, _really_?” His hands went to Tony’s belt, unfastened it. Unzipped Tony’s pants and carefully pushed them down around his thighs. The underwear went next until Tony was mostly naked, his pants pooled around his knees, which was awkward and vaguely humiliating.

Oh, this was going to hurt, because he still had no idea what Bucky was pushing for. “Sir, I don’t... I am Iron Man?”

“That’s what you _do_ ,” Bucky gave him. He walked around behind Tony, fingers running lightly over the lashes on Tony’s ass, cool metal over Tony’s abused skin. “You’re no more Iron Man than I am Winter Soldier. I mean, I know you have trouble with life/work balance, baby. Maybe that’s why this is so hard for you. But you need to be reminded. An’ maybe a little pain, so it sticks better, next time.” He circled around again, leaned in and kissed Tony, hot and hard and possessive, his hand cupping Tony’s ass and kneading the muscle there, fingertips teasing light at his crack, the other arm pressing the strap against Tony’s bare back. “Who… are you?”

Tony shivered into the touch, pressing, and closed his eyes, squeezing them tight so he wouldn’t flail his arms around in frustration. “I don’t know what you want,” he confessed. “I’m a hundred different people, that’s the whole reason I need to turn it _off_. I’m a genius and a scientist and a philanthropist and a friend and a CTO. Superhero, sometimes. Boyfriend and lover. I just... tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you, but I swear I don’t know, sir. I’m trying, but I don’t.”

“Aw, baby,” Bucky said, and his voice was so kind that it prickled at Tony’s eyelids. “You wear a hundred different hats and answer to thousands of names, and you don’t know who you are? The most important part of who you are? One more try, baby, you can do it. Who are you? To me.”

_To me_. To Bucky? That was easier, that was... less confusing, at least, and Tony almost sagged with the lessened strain. That was all he _should_ be, now, wasn’t it? To slough off everything else and just _be_ , just put himself into Bucky’s hands and be-- “Yours, sir. I’m just... yours.”

“Good boy,” Bucky said. He kissed Tony’s ear, ran his tongue around the shell and then bit down, just enough for his teeth to press, tugged on the lobe. “That’s good, baby, that’s who you are. You’re mine, all mine. This. This is my ear. And these--” he moved down and flicked his tongue over Tony’s mouth “--are my lips. And this, this is my ass.” Squeezed, and then slid his hand around the front. “And what’s this?” Ran his fingers up Tony’s shaft, slow and deliberate.

Tony’s breath caught at the gentle touch. “Yours, sir. Your cock.” Relief washed over him like warm rain. Yes. Bucky’s. That was all he needed to be.

“That’s right,” Bucky praised. “So, so very right. It belongs to me. Everything about it belongs to me. How hard it is, and whether or not it’s going to get what it needs. That’s mine, too.”

Too sudden, Bucky moved, like a video game glitch, and he dropped onto his knees in front of Tony. Keeping the strap pressed against Tony’s lower back like a reminder, Bucky tugged him closer, and then licked straight up Tony’s dick, from base to head in one wide, warm stripe.

Tony gasped, swaying into it. He wanted to say Bucky’s name, wanted to beg for more, wanted to offer everything he had... _No talking_. He bit his lip and hoped Bucky understood the meaning of his groan.

Bucky drew it out, like taffy, slow and sweet. Licked all the way around; teased at Tony’s balls with one finger, pressed in behind them, rubbing at his perineum. Time slipped, drowsy and almost dreamy, as Bucky sucked him in, let him slide out. Rubbed his cheek against Tony’s cock, then planted a row of tiny kisses along his belly. Slow enough that it felt _fantastic_ , just incredible, but with no urgency behind it, and only a little pressure, a long, drawn out tease of sensation.

Finally, Bucky pulled back, a thin line of saliva stretching obscenely between his mouth and the head of Tony’s dick. “All right, baby,” he said. “Shuck the pants, pick a tool, an’ hop up on the bench. You c’n stand if you need the stretch in your legs, or kneel, whatever’s better for you. Want you t’ offer me your tool of choice, in your hands, stretched out. Head down, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Tony agreed, and he was breathing a little hard but feeling much more settled in his skin, and _god_ , he loved Bucky so much. He wriggled out of his pants and left them where they fell, then considered the tools laid out by the bench. He knelt on the padding, then picked up the flogger and held it out on his open palms, head bowed.

“Very nice,” Bucky told him. He took up the flail, ran the soft leather tails through his hand, then traced them down Tony’s spine, a dozen little twitchy, tickly ends until he brushed over Tony’s ass with them. “I know you need to get out of your head an’ stay there. So, this is what I was thinkin’. Since it took you so long t’ remember who you are, think I’ll remind you. I got a use for that mouth of yours. And then,” he ran his hand over Tony’s back, followed by the tails of the flogger again, “I might mark up this back of yours. Won’t hurt quite as much, an’ I can get a good rhythm going. Think you can take… at least thirty, that way. Might take a break for a bit, finger you open an’ put a plug in you. That’ll be fun, right? Watch you start squirming an’ aching for it, while I finish off your stripes. What do you think of that, baby?”

_Fun_ wasn’t quite the word, but it did sound _good_. Tony was already panting, just thinking about it. “Yes, sir, I’d... That sounds perfect. Thank you, sir.”

Bucky tugged Tony’s chin up. “Lemme see you, baby, those pretty eyes,” he said, then gave Tony a sweet, sunny smile. “Good, good. You’re so pretty, it’s just sinful.” He kissed Tony again, then walked around him, touching him all over. Got the cuffs out and secured Tony’s ankles to the bench, knees spread. While he was back there, he ran his hands possessively over Tony’s ass and thighs. Ran his metal thumb over Tony’s asshole, teasing at the rim with the slick metal.

The strands of the flogger teased over Tony’s ass, down his thigh, along his calf. Bucky turned the flogger in his hand and used the stiff handle to smack sharply down on the heel of Tony’s left foot, a hard, jolting blow that left a throbbing sting behind, like stepping on a Lego.

Tony jerked in the restraints and whined, and only barely remembered not to twist around to give Bucky a pout. There were fun after-scene bruises, but the bottoms of his feet were not among them.

“Hands behind your back,” Bucky told him, then linked Tony’s wrists together at the small of his back, a little chain between them so his shoulders weren’t too strained. Leaned over Tony’s back and deposited a kiss in each palm. Put a firm hand between Tony’s shoulderblades and lowered him over the bench. “How’s that feel? Secure? Not too much pressure?”

Tony wiggled a little, just to settle his chest in the extra padding they’d added for him, and then nodded. “Feels good, sir.”

Bucky nodded, then clicked a metal chain to Tony’s collar, fastening it on the bottom bar, holding him down. “You can push up a bit from that, if it starts hurting your chest, okay? And you remember the rules from last time? Gonna give you six minutes on th’ clock. Might have to work for it, since I’ve already come. And I want you t’ go ahead and look up at me, much as you can. Love to see your face when you got your lips wrapped ‘around me. What’s your color, baby?”

“Green, sir.” God, was he. He was already salivating, eager to get his mouth on Bucky’s cock. He looked up and gave Bucky his best bedroom eyes.

“Clock, please,” Bucky said, and JARVIS projected it onto the wall, just behind Bucky’s hip. He unzipped again, tugging those too-tight pants down a little, to give Tony room to work. “Beautiful,” he said, looking down at Tony with utter devotion and admiration, one hand stroking possessively down Tony’s cheek, knuckles brushing his jaw.

Tony stropped his face into Bucky’s touch like a cat, then opened his mouth for Bucky’s cock. Six minutes was doable but a bit of a challenge, so he didn’t bother with a slow build-up, instead going straight to using his tongue to massage the big vein along the underside, tugging at the rim, and circling the slit. He made sure Bucky was watching him, then let his eyes fall to half-mast and hummed, a low note that would vibrate right into Bucky’s balls.

“God, look at you,” Bucky murmured, then groaned, rolling his hips up into Tony’s touch. “So good, I...ah! Love th’ way you do that, your perfect, wanton mouth, oh, _God_ , Tony…” Bucky’s eyes slitted, then popped open again, as if he wanted to just relax into it, but couldn’t seem to stop looking at Tony, adoring Tony with his gaze. Bucky’s hands were busy in Tony’s hair, stroking his face, teasing under his chin.

Tony took advantage of his lowered eyelashes to sneak a look at the clock, then opened his jaw a little wider and sucked harder, trying to pull Bucky all the way into his throat. He couldn’t twist, like this, but he swiped his tongue from side to side, trying to simulate the sensation as best he could. Bucky looked utterly blissed out, and it made Tony feel incredible, powerful, despite being chained down, that he could do that. He hummed his pleasure and strained to pull Bucky as deep as he could.

Bucky cupped his hands around Tony’s head, thumbs rubbing at Tony’s jaw, as if coaxing him to relax. Gently, he thrust into Tony’s mouth. Watched with avid delight as he pushed against Tony’s cheek, distending it obscenely. “Keep your fingers loose, baby, unless you need me t’ stop, okay?” He looked over the expanse of Tony’s back where his wrists were bound and then, starting slow, but moving faster with each roll of hip, he fucked into Tony’s mouth.

Tony kept his tongue down, because that was an injury they didn’t need to experience twice, but he could undulate it along the heavy weight of Bucky’s cock as it slid in and out of his mouth. Bucky seemed to enjoy that, at least. Tony sure as hell was enjoying it; he loved giving head. Bucky tasted like the afterburn of whiskey, and the heat and size of him filling Tony’s mouth was perfect. Tony fixed his eyes on Bucky’s and let himself get lost in the rhythm of the motion.

Tony could see the different muscle groups twitching, as Bucky tightened his abs to thrust, the way his thighs clenched and shuddered, a tic that rippled the skin near his hip, and then, Bucky’s hands tightened in Tony’s hair. “Oh, god, oh… oh, Tony, baby, that’s so good, you’re so--” He uttered a high, keening moan and his dick slid a lot further into Tony’s throat than perhaps he meant, but he pulled back, quick enough, and painted Tony’s tongue with come. “Oh, god.”

Tony hummed happily and swallowed as much as he could, licking Bucky’s cock clean. He kept licking and nuzzling until Bucky pulled away entirely. Tony tipped his head a little so Bucky could see his smile.

“Mmm, you’re a sweetie,” Bucky told him, very seriously. He twisted into a squat and got on a level with Tony’s eyes. “Who are you?”

“‘M all yours, sir,” Tony said, and it made a sizzle of heat slide down his spine just to say the words.

“Good boy.” Bucky leaned his forehead against Tony’s with utmost tenderness. “Love you.” He appeared to pause, regroup, and gather his wits. “Ready for your flogging, sweetheart?” He mapped out a span of Tony’s shoulder, about as wide as his hand, drawing a circle around it, then tracing lines over Tony’s skin with his fingertips.

“Yes please, sir,” Tony breathed. “Love you, too.”

Bucky unlocked Tony’s wrists from behind his back, then secured him, bent over the bench, the chain at Tony’s collar resting with cold links against his chin and cheek. Took up a position where Tony could see his legs, feet spread as if steadying himself against recoil. The anticipation tingled up and down Tony’s spine, skin already crawling as if trying to escape.

Bucky had precision aim and control; the strands striking with a cascading ripple; one, two... six, biting into his skin in a lightning jag of sensation. Tony worked at breathing through the pain, though it was already easier to bear than the strap had been earlier.

Each fall was a shower of white blankness in his mind, a glorious emptiness that lingered longer with each blow, until he was barely skimming his thoughts between them. He existed, and he was Bucky’s, and the blows hurt but the pain was good. Cleansing, perhaps, or... He lost the thread of the thought and didn’t bother to try to get it back. The blows fell, and he was Bucky’s.

After a while, he realized that his face was wet, that tears were streaming down his cheeks, that his breath hitched in a sob with every fall of the flogger. But he wasn’t tensing up, despite the predictable pattern of them. They simply were, and the pain was, and it was perfect.

“There you are,” Bucky was saying, his fingers under Tony’s chin, lifting his face. Bucky kissed his tears, tongue flicking out to taste them. “Gonna give you a break for a few minutes, let all that adrenaline do its magic.” Keeping a hand on Tony the whole time, he moved around and Tony felt Bucky’s weight come down on the bench. A moment later, a dollop of lube dripped into his crack and slid down, a shiver of cold that warmed up for a moment, and then… oh, god, _didn’t_. Like the rush of arctic wind, the sensation of eating a peppermint, the lube was a glitter of cold sparkles against his asshole.

Tony whined a little and twisted, but that just served to work the menthol-laced lube deeper into his body. It was awful and wonderful, the perfect counterpoint to the heat on his back.

Bucky’s hand clamped down on Tony’s asscheek, waking up the almost forgotten strap bruises, holding Tony in place as Bucky slowly worked him open, smearing that terrible, tingling lube inside. The run off dripped down his balls, tickling and itching and shivering through him. He squirmed and his hips moved involuntarily, thrusting at nothingness, no friction for his cock to rub up against.

A sharp pain of teeth against Tony’s asscheek. “Stay still or I will coat your cock with this,” Bucky threatened.

Tony whined again, but fought to hold still. A groan slid through his teeth and his whole body trembled with the effort.

Bucky worked him open, not drawing it out, but in easy, calm strokes until there was just… just enough room. The plug, liberally coated with more of that menthol lube, was twisted into place. Bucky patted Tony’s ass fondly, jouncing it inside Tony’s body, rubbing the tip against Tony’s prostate for a few, sparkling seconds. “That looks so pretty,” Bucky murmured. He tapped against the plug’s base, drawing groans and whines out of Tony, seemingly heedless of the effect it was having on him.

Tony squirmed, just a little, desperate for some kind of relief, and threw his most pitiful eyes in Bucky’s direction.

“You’re okay, honey,” Bucky told him. _Tap, tap, nudge, press_. “You’re fine. You’re doing so, so good. This is your break, remember?” He rubbed Tony’s ass, squeezing the cheeks and then spreading them, shifting the plug inside. “Aw, I know, baby, I know. I’d give you some friction, but I still got that lube on my hand. You don’t want that, do ya?”

Tony groaned with frustration, almost tempted to say _yes_ despite the burn of the lube. But he was desperate, not stupid. He dropped his head, shuddering and shivering through the sensations.

Bucky nudged the plug again, sending jolts of sensation into him, pleasure was there, sure, but so was aching frustration and the jittery feel of menthol which made Tony want to squirm away. “Don’t worry, babe, just givin’ my wrist a break.” Oh, _of course_ , that’s what he was doing, yeah, like Bucky ever actually got tired. _Sure_. “Tony, sugar. You’re probably gonna lose words if I push you to another endorphin dump. You wanna tell me how you’re feelin’, before we try that?”

Tony closed his eyes, chasing after the words to describe it. His back and ass were hot except where the menthol was making him feel chilled, and his cock was desperate and aching. All of it in the best of ways, the ways that meant Bucky was taking care of him, _would_ take care of him, would keep him close and make him sweat and burn and _work_ but keep him away from the constant stream of _thoughts_ that plagued him. Did he want more? Everything was so intense already, but nothing _really_ hurt, not in a bad way. And if Bucky was willing to take him higher, that was... that was trust, that was faith, that was... “Green,” he managed, “good, green. More, sir, please. Sir, I want... Please.”

A warm hand rested in the small of Tony’s back, affectionate. “Oh, babydoll, you’re so, so good to me,” Bucky said, earnestly. “You work so hard. I appreciate it, you know that, right? Best, you’re my best guy.”

Footsteps; which meant Bucky was trying harder to be heard, because usually Tony couldn’t hear him move. “Gonna get you there, don’t you worry.” He pressed a small cowbell into Tony’s hand. “You start feelin’ scared, or somethin’ ain’t what you want, you just give that a shake, or drop it. I’ll check in with you, but all I’m gonna want is for you to open your eyes an’ look at me. Love you, sweetheart, love you so much.” Bucky pressed a kiss to Tony’s temple, to his forehead, on each cheek, then to his mouth.

“Love you,” Tony panted, stretching as much as he could to draw out the kiss.

And then it was back to the swing of the flogger; somewhere in there Tony’s pain threshold had jumped a notch or five, and the sting of the flogger wasn’t quite so bad. Except that every once in a while, every time Tony was relaxing into the blows, he’d move or shift or something, and the plug would settle inside him, spearing him with blasts of pleasure like a water cannon.

Those blasts whited out his thoughts, dragged every lingering scrap of focus out of his brain, until all he could do was _feel_ , until he was moaning and grunting and sighing without even wanting to say anything. Until all he could remember were his rules, and Bucky’s lips against his, and holding the bell so it wouldn’t make any noise and stop this bliss.

At some point -- Tony wasn’t sure, there was no way to tell time in the fog of non-think that was all around him -- he was aware that Bucky had taken the plug out, was fucking Tony. Gently, but almost ruthlessly, the way his cock dragged over Tony’s prostate every single time, the steady rhythm of strokes that had no build up, but just over, and over, and over, as steady and precise as Bucky had been with the flogger.

And Bucky was talking, saying things. How pretty Tony was, how smart and wonderful and how good he felt. What a sweet, darling boy. How much Bucky loved him, words that fell without pain, without the need to argue, or swallow it down and pretend that they weren’t raw and ugly and unbelievable against Tony’s backlog of experience.

There were tears on his face again, but that was all right, that was good; it was yet another offering to Bucky, to let Bucky have him like this, stripped bare and vulnerable, and that was good and right. He was aware of the ache in his cock, too, the flare of heat the accompanied each thrust, each press against the bruises on his ass. He wanted, he wanted... but it was distant wanting, not nearly as urgent as holding the bell and obeying the rules. He was Bucky’s, and Bucky would take care of him, and all he had to do was let Bucky have control.

More time, blissed out blankness. The dull heaviness in his balls meant… something, he didn’t know what anymore. He felt… a little sloshy, like a canteen with a bit of water inside. Nothing mattered, except Bucky, and the trust and need between them. He shifted a little, not much, just enough to let his head sink lower.

Bucky lifted his chin, brushed sweat-soaked hair off his face. So tender. A clean, wet cloth was brushed over his cheeks, soothing away tears and puffiness. “Hey, hey, can you look up at me, baby? Look… up here, yeah, that’s right, that’s good.” Bucky was speaking slow, gentle, like Tony was a wild animal that might bite. Or run.  

The room seemed very bright, and the way Bucky smiled when Tony looked up at him was even brighter, like a small sun going supernova just for Tony’s benefit. Tony stared in awe, couldn’t help returning the smile. Bucky was so beautiful, so good to Tony, so wonderful.

“Yeah, you can hold that, that’s fine,” Bucky said. How… Tony’s arms were loose and his wrists hurt, just a bit. But he was clinging to the bell, hand fisted around it, fingers aching with the strain. “It’s all right, baby. Jus’... yeah.” Bucky ran a finger over Tony’s lips and guided the nozzle of something into Tony’s mouth. “Want you to swallow for me, a few times, okay?” Something light and sweet and wet squirted onto his tongue. Not enough because suddenly Tony was ragingly thirsty.

Bucky indulged him with more, until the bottle was empty, and then he was stroking Tony’s face, and Tony leaned into it, eyes slitting and then falling closed like a cat in the sunshine. “Come on, baby,” Bucky was saying, and he was helping Tony stand up. His arm across Tony’s shoulders burned, and Tony pushed into it, enjoying the tingling sparks it created.

His legs were a little shaky, but Bucky held him up, kept him upright. Tony hummed happily and leaned into Bucky’s side, letting Bucky guide him. “Sit down here for a minute,” Bucky said, and Tony opened his eyes to see they were right by the bed. He didn’t sit so much as let himself fall, but Bucky was there to help, so that was okay.

More water, a washcloth on his face, and then Tony found himself leaning against Bucky’s chest, while a cool cloth was blotted over his back, not rubbed, which was good, because Tony shuddered just thinking of how that would feel, and not good. “I’ve got you, baby,” Bucky was crooning to him, sometimes running a soothing hand down Tony’s arm. And then fingers danced along Tony’s hip. “It’s been a while, an’ look how hard you still are, oh, baby, you’re so amazing… so good for me. So pretty and perfect, I shouldn’t ask for more.”

Fingers, soothing, and yet teasing, over Tony’s skin. “But I think I’m gonna ask for more anyway. You can give me more, can’t you baby? Just a little more.” Tony was being coaxed to lay down, on his side, keeping his stinging, aching back away from the sheets. Bucky moved him into position, bent his knees, and then…

There was a brief tug, and then -- when had the plug gone back in, because oh, oh, oh, god, the way it caught on his rim before coming out was a burst of pleasure, too much, almost too much, on frayed and worn nerves. Like a crystal glass, shattering.   

Tony’s breath caught on a sob, and Bucky was stroking his skin, murmuring, “I know, baby, I know, you’re so good, you’re doing so well for me.” Tony panted until the world stopped breaking around him, until everything stabilized and was whole again, and Bucky was still there, telling Tony how beautiful he was, how sweet. Tony wanted to give him anything, everything, whatever he wanted.

Bucky’s fingers on him, again, stroking, light, a simple, easy tease against his cock, which ached, it ached, felt like it had been hard and wanting for hours, and he’d been denied and denied, and suddenly he was rocking into Bucky’s touch, with Bucky crooning in his ear. They were spooned together on the bed, and each time Tony shifted back, there was a brief flare of heat on his shoulders, from brushing against Bucky’s body. “I know. Oh, baby, I know, it’s all right. Jus’ get you through this an’ then it’ll all be done an’ you can rest. So sweet, you’re so sweet for me baby. Just a little more, an’...”

Bucky’s hand was slick with lube, and not the menthol stuff, either, but something soft and silken, wet and warm. Smelled nice, too, like butterscotch, maybe. Sweet, but not overpowering. “Shhh, it’s okay. You just go with it, baby. I ain’t gonna stop, I promise, that part’s done. You come on, any time you want.”

Tony wasn’t worried about him stopping, but still didn’t have enough words to explain it. He twitched and flinched in Bucky’s grasp because the pleasure was almost too much, too big, almost more than he could bear. His whole body filled with heat, hotter than the abused skin on his back, hotter than electric feel of Bucky’s hand on his cock. It was incandescent, white-hot, and he fought against it until Bucky crooned in his ear again, “Go on, baby, it’s okay.” And Tony came with a cry that might have been a scream or maybe it just felt like a scream as it fought out of his throat. The aftershocks were almost as intense, and Tony choked and gasped and finally fell into them in surrender, leaning back into Bucky’s body.

“There you are,” Bucky said, patting his arm. “So good, for me, you have no idea how beautiful you are, I know.” There was a shift in weight and Tony reached out, blindly, desperately. “It’s okay, I ain’t leavin’, just… here, can you have a little more to drink, baby? That took it out of you, I know. Yeah, I know. Don’t make that face, it’s good for you.” Whatever Bucky was giving him was sticky-sweet and tasted like antifreeze. Yuck, oh, _nasty_ , but then it settled into his stomach and was soothing, there, calming down the jitters and shakes that kept rolling up.

“Just relax, I know. Adrenaline boost, but it’ll be all gone soon. All you need to do is just relax, okay, shhhh.” Bucky was moving around, but kept a hand on Tony the whole time, which was good, because Tony wasn’t sure if his eyes were open or closed, but he couldn’t see either way. A steady roll of chatter came out of Bucky’s mouth, praise and commentary and… didn’t matter. Tony wasn’t really listening either, just kept tipping his face in the direction of that voice, like a plant seeking sunlight, because that’s what Bucky was. Sunlight and warmth and everything else.

Bucky wiped him clean. Rubbed something cool and numbing into his shoulders. There was still an ache there, like a fresh bruise, but the stinging eased. “Yeah, I’m here, right here, baby, it’s okay. Shhh. Relax. Just let it go, and it’ll go.” A moment and, “yeah, shhh.” Bucky was massaging his arm, which hurt, his knuckles hurt. “It’s okay, you can let it go now, I got it. It won’t ring, promise.”

Tony had... almost forgotten the bell, except for the little corner of his mind dedicated to holding it. It was hard to let it go, he’d been holding it so tightly for so long, but Bucky kept coaxing him, and slowly, Tony managed to open his fingers. As promised, it made no sound when Bucky took it, and Tony slumped in relief. “Did I... do it right?” he asked. His words sounded mushy and soft even to him, and he hoped Bucky would understand them, because it took more effort to talk than he’d have guessed.

“You did perfect, honey,” Bucky reassured him. “You were so good, just… yeah, I’m impressed and you’re my good boy, and we’ll just… here, how’s this? Nice fleece blanket, that should feel good on your skin. It’s very soft.” Bucky rubbed a corner of the blanket against Tony’s cheek and it was _soft_. He tucked a pillow between Tony’s knees, and another one that Tony could wrap his arms around. “I’ll be right here, big spoon, baby. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe. You’re so good. Just relax. The rest of that nasty ol’ adrenaline ought to burn out real soon, and then… you’ll get the best reward ever.”

“Mm.” Tony snuggled down into the blanket. He knew about the adrenaline burn, but it kept creeping up on him anyway. Every time Bucky stroked down his arm and murmured, “Relax, baby, just let it go,” Tony was dimly surprised to realize he was tense and shivering. But slowly, that passed, and there was nothing left but the dreamy endorphin high. “Oh... Love you.”

“There you go,” Bucky was saying and words meant something, Tony was just sure of it. Didn't matter. Everything was brilliant colors against his eyelids. Sweet gasping joy and warmth and Tony was just floating in it. “I'm here baby. Always gonna be right here.”

Tony didn’t know how long he floated -- time didn’t seem to be traveling at a measureable speed, and also not always in the same direction. It felt simultaneously like hours and only a few minutes before the bright colors began to fade, gently, like a sweet dream after waking. Tony was still naked, Bucky’s arms wrapped warm around him under the blanket. He tipped his head back to look at Bucky, and Bucky smiled at him. “Coming back to Earth, baby?”

“A little,” Tony agreed. “That was _perfect_. You’re the best.”

“Good, good,” Bucky said. “ _You_ were perfect. How do you feel? Hungry? Sleepy? Sore?” Bucky ducked his chin a little against Tony’s neck. “You went pretty high this time. Almost a hundred.”

“Felt pretty high,” Tony said. “Felt good, not having to think about anything.” He stretched slowly, carefully, mindful of probable welts and bruises. “Little sore,” he reported. “Not too sleepy. I could use some water, if you have a bottle handy.”

“Yep,” Bucky said. “Gonna have to move for a minute. You’re okay?” He waited for Tony’s nod, eyes intense, before slowly getting out of the bed. His skin was pink with heat, and… bruised? On his flesh arm, there was a distinct pattern  of fingermarks, laddering from near his elbow all the way up to his shoulder. They were already fading, but… wow...

“Oh, geez, sorry about that,” Tony said, surprised. It took a lot of effort to bruise Bucky, nevermind make the bruises dark enough to last any length of time. “When did I do that?”

“What? Oh, nah, it’s good, baby,” Bucky said. “You jus’ didn’t want me to go. Very determined snuggler, you are.” He got a fresh bottle of water and cracked the lid, before grabbing a little pre-packed ziplock of snacks. Chocolate, a little tub of peanut butter, some apple slices, and two little packets of string cheese. “Try an’ eat a bit?” He settled back onto the bed and rested the water bottle against the blanket. “You need help with this, or are you good?”

“I got it,” Tony said. He dragged himself upright -- ow, ass bruises -- and opened the water bottle the rest of the way. It was nice and cold, and he drank the whole thing in one long series of gulps. “Oh, that’s good.” He eyed the snacks dubiously. “Not really hungry.”

“Humor me?” Bucky said, giving Tony the full effect of his puppy eyes. “Just a bite. One bite, that’s all, and we’ll see how you feel?” A little left-over sub effect there, wanting Bucky to be happy, pleased. Wanting to _be good_.

He was back in his own skin enough to be slightly bratty about it, though, huffing a put-upon sigh and then opening his mouth like a baby bird to make Bucky feed him.

“There you go,” Bucky said, eyebrow tilted at such an angle to say he absolutely knew what Tony was thinking. He smeared a bit of peanut butter on the apple, and fed Tony the mouthful like a baby, cupping his hand under Tony’s chin to catch crumbs. “Uh-huh. Yeah, we don’t need you t’ crash right now, take all our hard work away.”

Tony chewed and swallowed, and once he’d muscled past the urge to spit it out, it tasted better. And then really good. “Damn it, I hate it when you’re right,” he muttered. “Give me another one.”

“Oh, is _that_ why you’re scowling all th’ time?” Bucky teased him. They went through the apples and the peanut butter pretty quick. String cheese, though? Yuck. Tony was a billionaire, he could get food that was better than a second grader’s lunch pack. Bucky tempted him with it by promising the chocolate and some more water once the cheese was done, and Tony reluctantly ate it. Gooey, cheap, second rate mozzarella. The chocolate was good, though. Top notch, just dark enough to be bitter on his tongue. A second bottle of water, and while Tony finished it off, he didn’t need to chug it like the last one. Nice… equilibrium was starting to seep back in.

He leaned back into Bucky’s warmth when the food was gone. His brain was beginning to spin up again, but at least for the moment, the thoughts were slow and orderly. It was a nice change of pace. “Glad I have you to come home to,” he sighed.

“Glad you still come home,” Bucky agreed. “You know I ain’t… never. Going away, unless you want me to, right?” He rubbed Tony’s arm softly, fingers warm, comforting. “Love you so much, baby.”

“Most of the time,” Tony said, which was about as good as his anxiety-ridden brain got. He knew it _now_ , at least, which felt warm and solid and fluffy like the blanket. “Love you, too.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. He cuddled up against Tony’s back. “I got you. You get some sleep, now, an’ I’ll keep watch. You’re safe. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

 


End file.
